


How Far I've Walked With You

by astrangerenters



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Sex, Angst, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, Japan, M/M, Mystery, Oral Sex, Romance, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 03:36:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 50,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8188144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerenters/pseuds/astrangerenters
Summary: Sho arrives at Pinetree Manor as a live-in tutor for a wealthy young orphan. Though his job has its challenges, it’s the boy’s guardian, his mysterious uncle, who proves to be the greatest challenge of all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A jumble of Downton Abbey and Jane Eyre-type tropes but set in Japan. Historical accuracy is…quite unlikely because of the very “English novel”-style plot, but the general time period is meant to be Taisho Era (1912-1926). 
> 
> Title comes from [Always](http://yarukizero.livejournal.com/70610.html).

Rain was falling in solid sheets by the time he boarded his third and final train. It fogged up the glass of his compartment, blotting out the mountainous countryside. Alone for the last leg of his journey, he couldn’t help a little childish fun, drawing on the glass with his finger. If anyone happened by and looked inside, spotting the faint streaks that were a cow and a flower respectively, they’d never believe a grown man had drawn it anyhow. He’d never been very skilled in that area.

He’d grown up on the other side of the mountain range and had never made the journey to Matsumoto before. But in his brief correspondence with his new employer, he’d decided to make note about being a local. The wealthy could be rather odd when making a new hire. A tutor Sho had met while working in Kyoto had said that he’d gotten his job simply because he and his employer liked the same cigarette brand.

Sho hoped that the decision to employ him was influenced more by his skills, by his positive references, but he supposed it didn’t matter now since he was hired and would be starting that week. 

Growing up, Sakurai Sho hadn’t envisioned himself becoming a live-in tutor. He’d been on the scholar’s path, the same as his mother, but he’d found academic life stifling. The egos, the competition for funding. The Keio history department had been nothing more than a club of old men who would likely keel over and die in their stuffy offices, and a young man in his twenties with a fresh doctorate hadn’t been welcome from the start.

So he’d turned to tutoring. He’d started small, taking on sons and daughters of bankers and lawyers, offering private lessons and study assistance for university entrance exams. Once he’d broadened his skills, he’d turned to younger children. History, literature, arithmetic, basic sciences. He would be thirty-five come the New Year, and he’d spent nearly five years with his last employer in Kyoto, a well-to-do Lord, teaching his three young daughters.

Now he’d left Kyoto behind. He’d left behind Chie, who’d never much liked to study. Noriko, who excelled at arithmetic but saw little of interest in literature and poetry. And Marina, who was only seven but had the potential for real achievement. Sho had only been let go from his position after lasting pressure from conservative grandparents that the girls didn’t really require such a broad education. Sho’s opinion had differed greatly, but he accepted their decision rather than cause trouble. He was certain the girls would find a way to keep learning.

His newest pupil was waiting for him in Matsumoto City. And his newest pupil was a Matsumoto himself. The young boy was a Lord already at age ten, and as far as Sho knew, he stood to inherit vast property holdings once he came of age. The Matsumoto family had been lords of the area for centuries, had been adding to their wealth with every generation. However, the future of the family was in jeopardy. Sho had missed it in the newspapers when it originally happened, but he’d done a bit of studying before applying for the position.

Matsumoto Keita, age ten, was the son of Matsumoto Atsushi and his wife Natsuko. Husband and wife had perished in a train derailment in February, only six months earlier, while young Keita had survived. Keita’s grandfather, Matsumoto Taro, had passed away two years earlier. Taro’s other son, Jun, now served as the boy’s guardian until he came of age. It was Matsumoto Jun who had placed the advertisement seeking a live-in tutor for his orphaned nephew.

_There will be some difficulties with Keita_ , Matsumoto Jun had written to Sho in reply after he’d inquired about the position. Matsumoto had declined to discuss what those difficulties were, though Sho had an idea what they might be. A young boy who lost his parents in a horrible accident was likely depressed, angry. Difficult. The newspapers hadn’t said as much, but Sho assumed that Keita had not emerged from the incident unscathed either. He’d seen the photos of the overturned train cars in the newspaper, had winced at the sight of them on their sides smashed up.

The salary offered was higher than average, most likely because of the “difficulties” Sho would face, but he was determined to do his best. It had been years since he’d been tutoring one-on-one, and he was eager to help the boy succeed after his terrible loss. In addition to his salary, he’d have his own private rooms in Pinetree Manor, the Matsumoto family’s estate outside of Matsumoto City. He’d miss the hustle and bustle of his life in Kyoto, but he was ready for a new challenge.

It was still raining when Sho’s train pulled in to Matsumoto Station, though it was more of a drizzle than a downpour now. He tugged on his suit jacket and grabbed his bag, shuffling out of the carriage and onto the windy platform. It was late summer and it had been roasting in Kyoto when he’d departed two days earlier, so the cooler mountain air was a welcome reprieve. The clean scent of the rain refreshed him as he stretched his legs, holding his hat on his head as wind rolled across the platform, fluttering female passenger skirts and kimono as they waited for the porters to bring out luggage and steamer trunks from the baggage cars.

Once his own trunk had been set down before him, a station worker helped him tug it inside. He was just about to ask someone to watch his things while he went to one of the pay telephone booths along the station wall when a man in a forest green rain slicker approached with a jolly “Hello! Hello there!” His thick rubber boots squeaked along the floor as he hurried over.

The man pushed back his hood, holding up a piece of paper that had probably said Sho’s name at one point. Instead it had been soaked by the rain, the ink running down the page in sad streaks of black. The man had written the incorrect characters for Sho’s last name anyhow, and Sho held in a smile at the attempt.

“Are you Sakurai Sho-san?” the man said, dripping all over the place. Perhaps he’d been loitering around the station long before the rain had calmed down. “Or should I say Sakurai-sensei?”

“Call me however you like,” Sho said, pulling off his hat and extending his hand. “Yes, I’m Sakurai Sho.”

The man had a firm grip and a bright smile, his skin tanned. He seemed to be similar in age to Sho, if he had to venture a guess. “Aiba Masaki, from Pinetree Manor. I’m the head butler for the Matsumoto family.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“I read the train schedule wrong,” Aiba admitted, bunching up the damp paper with Sho’s name and shoving it in the pocket of his slicker. “I was here a little early, but better early than late. Matsumoto-san would kill me if I left you standing out in the rain.”

With Aiba’s help, they carried Sho’s trunk to a motorcar parked just outside the station, a sleek black four-door sedan. Once inside, Aiba splattered droplets of water everywhere as he fretted over the car, complaining about how the glass had fogged up and grumbling about the noisy motor. Sho bit his tongue, amused by how nervous Aiba-san seemed to be. For a head butler, he seemed rather overwhelmed.

They lurched forward when Aiba pumped his booted foot against the accelerator, Sho clutching his bag against him as the wipers streaked back and forth over the windshield. Things calmed once Aiba drove them out of the city and onto one of the winding roads off in the direction of the mountains. 

Pinetree Manor was fairly isolated from town, Aiba told him, but they could get most things delivered easily. The manor had already had electricity for nearly twenty years, one of the first grand houses to abandon gas lamps. They’d had a telephone line installed for more than ten. “I was told that Lord Matsumoto, Lord Taro that is, he wanted to modernize immediately,” Aiba explained.

Sho was curious, watching the windshield wipers methodically streak back and forth. “Have you not been with the family long?”

“Ah, actually, I was hired after Lord Taro passed away. Lord Atsushi, he…did a bit of shuffling after that. So most of the staff are fairly new.”

“I see.”

“Not…not to say the people who worked for Lord Taro were bad, of course,” Aiba rambled on, gesturing with one hand and accidentally flicking more drops onto Sho’s jacket. “He just…changed things up. I guess that’s why a fool like me was placed in charge of such a grand estate, though I’d only been a footman in my previous employment.” Aiba winced. “Not to say any of us are unfit…”

Sho could just feel the nervousness radiating from the man beside him. “I’m sure things will be just fine.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know very much about Pinetree Manor or the Matsumoto family, I’m afraid, other than what I’ve read about. I was sorry to hear of Lord Atsushi and Lady Natsuko’s passing.”

“It was a shock,” Aiba admitted, sounding deeply sad. “Horrible. Such a horrible thing to happen. He’d only been the lord of the manor for a year or so. Too young.”

“But I’m sure Lord Jun is doing his best to watch over the young master.”

Aiba stiffened a little, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Ah…about that, you see…”

Sho cocked his head, turning to look at Aiba. Matsumoto Jun’s letters had been short but perfectly cordial. Sho was used to dealing with people in higher social strata, and though some could be tyrannical or selfish, caring only for their wealth, he hadn’t gotten that impression from Matsumoto Jun. Then again, letters could hide the truth.

“Aiba-san?”

“He’s not a lord,” Aiba said, his voice nearly lost under the car’s noise.

“I thought he was Lord Taro’s son?”

“He was…he is…” Aiba turned off of the main road and onto a narrower one, the pavement lined with tall, soaring pines. “It’s…complicated. Something between Jun-san and his father. He’s not a lord, his title was stripped from him many years ago. Long before I ever worked for the family, so I don’t know the whole of it and I certainly don’t ask. It was Lord Atsushi who named Jun-san as guardian to his son, but his title has never been restored.”

Sho nodded, not wishing to force answers out of Aiba-san that he didn’t have. But at least he was grateful to know it. He’d found it a bit odd that Matsumoto Jun had never used his title when corresponding with him. Now he at least had a reason why. “You’ve saved me, Aiba-san.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I was all set to introduce myself to my new employer, and I would have likely referred to him as ‘my lord’ so it’s probably best I found out before I made such a serious blunder.”

“Well,” Aiba said, still looking uncomfortable. “Then I’m happy to help.”

—

Pinetree Manor was not a traditional Japanese home. When he’d been young, Matsumoto Taro had traveled to England and continental Europe, the same as many wealthy young men had after Japan had reopened to the world. Before getting married, Lord Taro had demolished his family’s old home and replaced it with a two-story structure made of imported limestone, thinking it a “civilized” and “modern” choice.

It was a bit of an eyesore, if Sho had to be completely honest. It was foreign, showy, ostentatious, all sharp corners. After the rain, the gray stone had darkened, looking rather dull next to the dewy pine trees that surrounded the property. It was a home out of some dreary English novel, but Sho supposed his opinion on the architecture didn’t matter.

A gravel driveway ran around to the back of Pinetree Manor, where Aiba got out of the car to tug open a garage door. Inside there was another motorcar, this one an imported Fiat sedan painted a dark blue, a convertible with its top down. “Jun-san’s car,” Aiba explained once he pulled the far less flashy black “family” car into the garage alongside it.

Leaving Sho’s trunk in the car for other staff to fetch, Aiba led Sho inside. Before Sho could even blink, a woman came up behind him, yanking on his jacket. “Here, let’s get that dried for you.”

He turned, startled, to find a young woman with short black hair and a no-nonsense look about ready to give his jacket another tug.

“Let him inside, let him breathe,” Aiba teased, laughing and urging Sho to follow him inside.

He felt out of sorts, wandering around this grand home in his wet shoes, not having seen a place to take them off upon entering. The woman with the short hair followed Sho and Aiba, her own shoes clicking on the hardwood floors of Pinetree Manor’s kitchen and elegant dining room. Her noisy progress was muffled by the rugs in the main hall, a two-story affair with a carpeted staircase leading up to the second floor landing. A chandelier of yellow-tinted glass gave the room a sort of gaudy warmth.

Aiba paused at the bottom of the stairs. He gestured to rooms Sho hadn’t seen yet. “Through there is a library, the lord’s private study, and Keita-kun’s room. Upstairs on the left here is the family wing, where Jun-san stays. Your room will be in that wing next to Inoue-san, Keita-kun’s nurse. On the right, the staff wing.”

Sho glanced briefly at what seemed to be the open doorway of the library before he followed Aiba up the stairs. The walls of every room were adorned with western art and western portraits, reminders of the late Lord Taro’s tastes. It would be strange to teach the young boy about Japanese history in rooms that had been pulled straight from a French salon. 

Aiba brought him to a set of rooms that were a bit plain compared to the rest of the house, which Sho found very agreeable. The room was generously furnished. Even though the room lacked fancy artwork and kitschy lamps, there was a large four-poster bed, an elegant armoire, and a writing desk. He had a private washroom as well. The view from the curtained window was of well-manicured lawns stretching back until they reached the pines, the greenery hidden a bit by mist from the mountain rain. 

This time the woman insisted on taking his jacket, all but ordering him to change clothes so she might launder his travel attire. Introductions were made at last. Her name was Ohno Haru, and she was the housekeeper. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-five or so, a testament to how Lord Atsushi had shaken up the house staff after his father’s passing. Young as she was, there was an air of calm confidence to her, and Sho had a feeling they’d get along well.

Haru-san wore a simple black dress, a ring of jangling housekeys attached to her belt with a silver chain. She gave him a quick overview of what his room and board would cover. The family cook would provide Sho with breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day. He could take meals in his room, in the dining room with Matsumoto-san, or in the kitchen with the staff. Dining with his employer sounded presumptuous and dining in his room a bother for the staff. The kitchen would be fine, he told her.

Aiba left him alone to get settled before dinner, Sho’s trunk arriving from the garage a few minutes later thanks to two footmen, Fujii and Kotaki. At the evening meal, he’d meet the rest of the staff, and following that, he’d been told that Matsumoto-san wanted to welcome him. Introductions to Keita would come the following day (assuming, Sho thought, that Matsumoto didn’t change his mind about him).

He changed clothes, unlocking his trunk and putting a few things away. The smaller trunk of teaching materials that he’d sent ahead on a mail train had arrived at Pinetree Manor that morning, and Aiba-san had already moved it to the library on the ground floor of the house where Sho had been granted permission to give his lessons.

The house was rather grand, but when Sho headed for the kitchen for dinner, he discovered that there weren’t as many staff as he expected. There was the cook and her assistant. Aiba the butler and the two footmen from earlier. Haru-san and three maids, two for the rest of the house and one who mainly helped in the kitchens and elsewhere as needed. Haru-san’s quiet husband, Ohno Satoshi, the gardener and groundskeeper for the entire estate. He shook Sho’s hand firmly, his tanned skin a sharp contrast from Sho’s due to his many hours spent outside in the summer heat.

Sho was seated beside Inoue Mao, a woman with her hair tied back and a solemn expression. She greeted Sho politely, but didn’t participate in the conversation at the table. Knowing the woman was young Keita’s nurse, perhaps she always had to have her ears perked up waiting for him to call on her. With a live-in nurse, Sho had to wonder just how ill or impaired the child was.

Since most of the staff stayed around the estate day in and day out, Sho’s arrival seemed to be the most exciting thing to happen in a while. The food was delicious, but their questions came rapid fire, interrupting him. They wanted to know about his life in Kyoto, since most of them had never left the prefecture. They wanted to know about where Sho had come from, and more of them were familiar with his hometown of Karuizawa than he’d expected. They were able to talk about his home, about skiing and hiking in the area. Despite the new faces and names he had to learn, he felt welcome here.

In honor of the newest staff member at Pinetree Manor, the cook had whipped up a tasty custard pie for dessert. This job was probably going to make him fat at the rate they were feeding him, the food just as rich as the rest of the gaudy decor in the house. He’d have to do his best to get out and get some exercise.

Everyone was just digging in when a noisy howl pierced the calm kitchen chatter, a scream that sent a shiver down Sho’s spine. The noise had reached the kitchen clear from the other side of the house, the sound of a child in unspeakable pain and agony.

Mao-san’s chair scraped back against the kitchen floor, and she hurried off with a murmured “please excuse me.”

Sho held tight to his fork, most of the other staff gathered around the table staring down at their plates with sorrowful expressions. There was a second scream, longer this time. Sho found his appetite vanishing.

“A nightmare?” he asked quietly as he received his first introduction to his new student.

“Most likely,” Haru-san said, apparently serving as the staff spokesperson. The rest poked idly at their desserts.

When poor Keita’s screaming subsided, Sho knew that Mao-san had managed to calm him. But it didn’t lessen the uncomfortable feeling that had settled around the kitchen table, the easygoing faces of the staff now troubled and wary. He knew his assignment would be challenging, he knew that. But hearing Keita, hearing his pain, filled Sho with pity. 

He wondered if he was really up for this.

The dessert course ended with little enthusiasm, the table cleared and staff bidding Sho good night. Sho loitered in the kitchen, watching pots get scrubbed and plates washed. Eventually Aiba found him.

“I’ve just spoken with Jun-san,” Aiba said. “He heard the commotion, but he still would like to meet with you this evening.”

“Yes, of course,” Sho said.

The house was quiet as Sho headed for what had apparently been Matsumoto Taro’s study, Matsumoto Atsushi’s after him. Aiba said that Jun-san didn’t use it much, but Sho supposed it was the most proper room in the house for their introduction. 

Looking down the corridor, Sho could see the room at the end of the hall with its door shut. Keita-kun’s room. Sho hoped the boy had been able to calm down, was resting quietly. 

He held up his hand to knock on the study door.

—

The room was lit by a solitary desk lamp, a sort of ugly pewter thing shaped like a woman’s body, topped with a green shade. Everything else was fairly dark, the desk, the outlines of bookshelves. Behind the desk was the man who’d bid Sho to enter with only a single word.

“Sensei.”

Sho closed the door gently behind him, finding his new employer sitting behind the desk in a leather-backed chair. A large radio in the corner of the room was piping out a soft, soothing violin concerto. Matsumoto leaned forward as Sho approached the desk, but he did not rise from his seat.

Instead he set down his lit cigarette in an ashtray with one hand and a glass of brandy with the other. He leaned forward even further, coming more into the light. He was handsome, with broad shoulders, black hair slicked back away from his face, and dark eyes trapped behind a pair of round, horn-rimmed glasses. He had thick brows, pouty lips, and a serious expression that didn’t exactly put Sho at ease. He wore a simple white dress shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a purple silk tie, and matching suspenders. He didn’t quite have the aura of an aristocrat, but he was no mere commoner either. Sho couldn’t quite figure the man out, at least from first glance.

Matsumoto Jun ran a long finger around the rim of his brandy glass, letting out a soft sigh. “Please, have a seat.” His voice was a little gentler than his body language and expression implied.

Sho sat, wondering if Matsumoto’s solemn expression was due to his nephew’s screams or something else. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Sakurai Sho.”

“Matsumoto Jun,” came the man’s reply. No title. Aiba had been telling the truth. In Sho’s experience, anyone with the slightest hint of nobility to them came right out and laid claim to it. Matsumoto Jun introduced himself as only a man. “Can I get you a drink?”

He shook his head. “No, but thank you. I’m quite full from dinner. The kitchen staff here are outstanding.”

Matsumoto nodded. “Best thing my brother ever did was hiring Shibata-san,” he replied, referring to the cook.

Sho folded his hands in his lap, waiting for Matsumoto to continue. He tried not to react when the man reached again for his brandy, downing it all with surprising haste and settling the empty glass back on the desk. Matsumoto was clearly on edge, clearly uncomfortable. But Sho didn’t sense any hostility.

“I told you there would be difficulties with Keita,” he said, and Sho couldn’t look away from him. His eyes were troubled, sad. “I wonder if ‘difficulties’ was the right choice.”

Sho waited, the soft music filling in the silence between them.

Matsumoto leaned back, his chair creaking. “I don’t…I don’t know much about children. I’ve got Mao-san for that. She cares for him day and night. The doctors say he needs more than her coddling, that he needs to be more engaged if he’s going to improve. It’s been half a year, and I cannot allow him to be away from his studies any longer. He’ll never be able to attend a proper school, so that is why you’re here, Sensei.”

Sho remained outwardly calm, even as his heart began to race. The child needed looking after day and night. What exactly was wrong with him?

“The train accident that killed my brother and my sister-in-law left Keita mangled and broken,” Matsumoto said with a straightforwardness that shocked him. “He will never walk again. He lost one leg at the knee and the other is practically immobile. There were internal injuries that we’ve been told have healed by now, but sometimes they still trouble him. He has been prescribed several medications for pain relief, but we cannot give him more without pushing him into a helpless fog or worse, into pure addiction.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Sho said quietly.

“It is why he screams,” Matsumoto said, his eyes angry, perhaps from his inability to do anything to help. “He makes it through most nights, but I do need to tell you upfront that there are nights when he will wake and cry for the medication.” He sighed, briefly removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I am sorry for that.”

Sho shook his head. “It’s not his fault. And I’m a sound sleeper.”

Matsumoto nodded. “You may think you are. I certainly thought I was.”

“Does Keita-kun know that I am here? Does he know he’ll be tutored?”

Matsumoto got to his feet, moving away from the desk and into the shadows. Now that Sho’s eyes had adjusted to the low light, he could see the outline of Matsumoto in the corner, heard him opening a bottle to pour more brandy into his glass.

“He doesn’t talk much. The doctors say it’s the trauma from what happened. He speaks a little with Mao-san, but most of the communication that comes from him is when he has one of his fits,” Matsumoto admitted. “Mao-san has told him that he’ll be studying soon, but…I’ll be honest, we don’t know if he understands what we tell him sometimes.”

This would be a troubling assignment indeed. Sho had never dealt with a child with such severe impairments, both physical and mental. He understood better Aiba’s nervousness. He understood better the way the staff had reacted to Keita’s screams in the kitchen. He understood better why Matsumoto Jun was paying him so much.

“We can take things slowly,” Sho said. “I’m not the sort of teacher who plows right in without understanding my student’s capabilities anyhow.”

Matsumoto returned, and Sho couldn’t help watching as he brought the glass to his mouth, watched him swallow the drink down. The last thing Sho needed was to be attracted to the person who paid his salary, but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that the man had a pull to him. A mystery. Aiba had only said that there’d been a falling out between Matsumoto and his father, but despite all that, the man was here now dutifully caring for his nephew. The boy who would inherit the family title and corresponding wealth.

Sho had read his share of novels. He’d seen these stories play out in fiction. The greedy, malevolent uncle taking advantage of the helpless nephew or niece, stealing their inheritance. Sho doubted that was the case here. Stripped of his title, Sho knew that Matsumoto Jun would inherit nothing at Pinetree Manor. Here he was just the same, ensuring that his ailing nephew had round the clock care. Ensuring that the boy who’d lost so much would be able to move forward, to continue his education. Despite the mystery that surrounded him, Matsumoto Jun was no villain. Whether his motivation was kindness or simply familial duty, Sho sensed no cruelty in him.

“The letters of reference you provided, they touted your patience.”

Sho grinned. So Matsumoto had at least read them. “I find that children are easier to instruct when they don’t feel that they’re being forced. I’m not sure how your education went, Matsumoto-san, but when I was a boy, I found school to be a real waste sometimes. Studying and studying and studying for a test and then never really needing that knowledge again.”

Matsumoto seemed a little surprised. “You have a doctorate, don’t you?”

“In a field that interested me. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t shy away from providing a thorough overview of the basics like reading and writing, but I have found that asking my students what interests them makes it easier. If they at least get to spend part of their day studying something they truly like, they’ll be more likely to put some effort into their other subjects.” He adjusted a little in his chair, trying not to let Matsumoto’s mouth or his mysterious eyes lure him in further. “While it may take longer than the usual for me to get your nephew on a proper schedule, what are his strengths? What are his favorite subjects? Even hobbies or other interests?”

At that line of inquiry, Matsumoto seemed to shrink in his seat, looking embarrassed. “I don’t know.”

“What about sports? I’ve got some books in my trunk about football and rugby now that I think about it…”

“I said I don’t know,” Matsumoto replied a bit sharply but then his features softened. “I’m sorry, Sensei.”

Sho waited for him to speak, still surprised by the man’s outburst.

“I…I honestly don’t know,” Matsumoto said quietly, finally reaching for the still-lit cigarette in the ashtray and putting it out, just to keep his hands from being idle. “Sensei, I don’t know the first thing about him. Up until six months ago, I lived in Tokyo. I didn’t know the boy. I’d been…estranged from the family for many years. After what happened to my brother, I thought that Keita would have gone to live with Natsuko’s family, but they’re from Hokkaido and Keita…moving Keita in his condition…”

Sho leaned forward, resting his hand on the desk, seeing Matsumoto desperately try (and fail) to hide his embarrassment.

“I’m a stranger to him. My brother hadn’t even told me he’d named me in his will, that I would be named Keita’s guardian if anything happened to him. Until the lawyer got in touch with me, I hadn’t seen Keita since he was a baby. So I truly don’t know much about him. If anyone does, it’s the staff here who knew him before the accident. Perhaps Aiba-san can assist you.”

He nodded, not wanting to prod him any further. “Of course, I’ll do that.”

“You’ve had a long journey, I’m sure. I won’t keep you any longer,” Matsumoto said, rising to his feet once more. He came around the desk and headed for the study door. Sho got up and followed him. Matsumoto was slightly taller than him, and Sho had to look up to meet his eyes. “I’m asking a lot of you, Sensei. I don’t expect miracles. Take all the time you need to bring Keita around.”

Sho inclined his head. “Would you like daily updates on his progress? You’re more than welcome to come to our lessons if you like, if only to provide Keita-kun with another familiar face.”

Matsumoto seemed guarded. “Let’s just have you meet and speak with Keita the first few days. Mao-san has agreed to sit in on all the lessons. She can help you, and she’ll know when Keita has reached his limit for the day.”

“Very well.”

Matsumoto opened the door. “You may find yourself with more idle time than you’re used to, on account of Keita’s health issues. You’re free to leave Pinetree Manor at your leisure. Aiba-san can drive you into town.”

“Thank you.” He extended his hand. “I’ll do my best.”

Matsumoto’s grip was stronger than Sho anticipated, his hand taking his and giving it a solid shake. “I’m certain you will, Sensei.”

—

He took breakfast the following morning with the staff again. Haru-san set down a stack of newspapers for him, both the local and a few of the national papers. She smiled. “They’re delivered here for Jun-san, but he never reads them very often. Just the sporting news. I thought perhaps you would like to have them.”

He smiled in return. “I’d like that very much. Shall I drop them off in the study for Matsumoto-san when I’ve finished reading?”

“He’s gone,” Kotaki the footman said, sipping his coffee.

“Gone?” Sho repeated.

“To Tokyo,” Fujii replied.

Aiba, seated beside him, was adding some sugar to a cup of tea. “He left shortly after you met last night. Took his car.”

“I didn’t realize,” Sho admitted. “He didn’t tell me about it when we spoke.”

“He’s gone more than he’s here,” one of the maids said, and Haru-san gave her a sharp look.

“On business in Tokyo then?” Sho asked, trying to smooth over the awkwardness descending on the kitchen.

“Probably,” Aiba reasoned. “We don’t…he doesn’t share much about himself. He usually just tells me to check if he has a full tank of gas in the car and then he heads off. Sometimes he telephones ahead when he’s coming back, just so we can have dinner ready for him, but otherwise, we don’t really interfere.”

Sho frowned. “But what about Keita-kun? What if something happens?”

The staff exchanged concerned looks. Haru-san cleared her throat. “Mao-san can handle most things, and Keita-kun’s doctor can be fetched from town quickly.”

That didn’t quite answer Sho’s question. The night before, he’d thought that Matsumoto Jun, as Keita’s guardian, would be a constant presence in the house. He was the master of the estate and would remain so until Keita came of age. And with the child’s difficulties, Sho assumed his adulthood would not be an easy one either. Having his uncle close would be a necessity, especially if he couldn’t even walk. And Sho had also thought that Matsumoto genuinely cared for the child’s welfare. But leaving the manor so abruptly, traveling so often and giving little notice of when he’d return…to Sho it seemed rather irresponsible.

“What if there’s something wrong with the house?” Wouldn’t the master of the estate need to be around more?

“That’s Nino’s job,” Ohno the groundskeeper said, reading the cartoon section from one of the newspapers at the other end of the table.

“Nino?” Sho asked.

“He’s the lawyer, the family’s lawyer. Ninomiya Kazunari-san,” Aiba explained. “He’s actually the one who handles most of the matters of the estate. He ensures we get paid, he can sign off on work orders if there’s repairs needed that are beyond simple handyman work. He coordinates with Mao-san and Keita’s doctors.”

“I see.”

Perhaps Sho had been wrong about Matsumoto Jun. His duty to his nephew came in the form of ensuring that other people - Mao-san, Ninomiya-san, Aiba and the house staff - did all the work. It wasn’t unheard of, especially since Matsumoto had said he didn’t know a thing about Keita, had been estranged for so long. He wasn’t the first wealthy man to shirk his duties and he wouldn’t be the last.

Sho just felt a little disappointed in him. In his condition, Keita needed everyone’s support. Matsumoto said the boy’s family on his mother’s side was in Hokkaido. Matsumoto Jun was the only family he had left near him, and the man could still drive off to Tokyo on a whim? And did so regularly? Sho couldn’t understand it, even if it was none of his business. He’d been hired to teach, not to criticize the man who hired him. He’d have to keep his opinions to himself.

After breakfast he spoke with Aiba and a few other members of staff about Keita, how he’d been before the accident. They had few answers. Most of them had been hired after Matsumoto Taro’s death, and Keita-kun had been away from home most of the time at a boarding school paid for by Taro-san. Apparently he’d been in boarding school since the age of six. Matsumoto Atsushi and his wife had been returning with Keita from his school when the train accident had occurred. 

In the year or so after Lord Taro’s death, staff had been in and out as Lord Atsushi took charge. When little Keita was actually in the house, home from school, Aiba-san had noticed that the child liked playing with blocks, seeing how high or intricately he could stack them. Ohno-san mentioned that Keita had liked to hunt for bugs in the garden, at least until his mother told him to stop dirtying himself. Beyond that, there was little to be learned about the boy. Blocks and bugs. Neither activity easily accomplished from the wheelchair he was now using. But, Sho thought, he at least had a starting point.

It had been decided that Sho would greet Keita following lunch. Sho took the time to acquaint himself with the library, which would serve as his classroom moving forward. It was a room seldom used since Jun-san was hardly home, but it was clean and tidy thanks to Haru-san and her staff. Not a bit of dust on the shelves or on the mantel above the fireplace in the center of the room.

Taking in the room, the shelves lining the walls, the bright sunshine that came in as soon as he opened the curtains, the plush sofas, he wondered how best to put his pupil at ease. With the help of the footmen, he pushed a few of the sofas aside, allowing more room for Keita and his wheelchair in the center of the room. Mao-san would be able to sit on a sofa beside him. In front of the fireplace, he’d have a chalkboard. Aiba-san said he would contact Ninomiya-san that day about buying one and having it delivered to the house. There was a Victrola to play records, so there could be music if Keita needed a break between lessons. 

Sho dug through his trunk of teaching supplies. Textbooks and scrawled lesson plans dating back almost a decade. Though his legs were severely damaged and he’d had internal injuries, Keita’s arms and hands had not been harmed. He’d be able to write, and once Sho had seen Keita in his wheelchair, he could work together with Mao-san and Aiba-san to move in a work table or have one constructed at the right height so he could draw or solve math problems.

He was just finishing up lunch when Mao-san pulled him aside. She looked apologetic, and she had dark bags under her eyes that spoke of so many sleepless nights. Did nobody else help her with Keita? Another topic Sho figured was off limits since he was new to the house.

“Sakurai-sensei, I’m sorry,” she said, inclining her head. “Keita was not feeling well all morning. I thought perhaps with a bit of lunch that he’d improve by the afternoon, that he might be excited to leave his room and come to the library but…”

“Say no more,” he replied, hiding his disappointment. “We can try again tomorrow.”

“Aiba-kun told me that you were wondering about his wheelchair?”

Sho explained what he had planned, so that Keita might be allowed to work on his lessons in the library. Mao nodded and though she’d been wary around Sho so far, whether out of shyness or worry for her charge, she warmed up a bit. 

“He’s having a nap right now, but I can bring his chair out of his room if you like so you can take measurements?”

“That would be great. I’ll get Aiba-san.”

The boy’s wheelchair was brought out into the main hall. The sight of it saddened Sho more than he’d anticipated. It seemed sturdy, with large wheels and a high back. The seat was heavily cushioned. “He usually has his blankets on his lap,” Mao said quietly. “If that makes any difference.”

“It shouldn’t,” Aiba said, and together he and Sho took measurements, Mao offering some more details about how tall Keita was, his posture when he was sitting in the chair. 

None of the tables or desks in the house were the right size to accommodate him, but like the chalkboard Sho had requested, Aiba told him it would be no problem to have something custom ordered.

“I’m happy to pay from my salary,” Sho said. “I’m the instructor…”

“Any funds for Keita’s schooling come from his trust. Nino can authorize the expense.”

Sho couldn’t help being curious. “Matsumoto-san doesn’t need to be notified?”

Aiba shook his head. “If it’s to help Keita-kun, I don’t think Jun-san cares about the cost. If he was here, he’d just say to have Nino handle it anyway. I’m sure of that much.”

“Is it difficult?” Sho asked. “Working this way?”

There was the slightest impatience in Aiba’s expression when he looked at Sho this time. “If you’re asking me to criticize Jun-san, I won’t.”

Sho flushed a little, scratching the back of his head. Though it seemed the family lawyer handled payments and so many other things, it was Matsumoto Jun who still retained the power to hire and fire staff. Aiba Masaki was unwilling to take the risk of speaking ill of his absent employer.

Aiba did take the risk of grabbing Sho by the arm, squeezing emphatically. “We’ve had a lot of sorrow here, Sakurai-san. All we can do with the situation is our best.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied.

“It’s remarkable Jun-san came back at all,” Aiba said, his voice quieter. “He’s done right by Keita, and whatever else he does is not my business. So long as that boy is cared for, the rest is really not my business.”

—

It was already Sho’s fifth day at Pinetree Manor when it was decided that he and Keita-kun might finally be introduced. Matsumoto Jun had yet to return from Tokyo, and there’d been no calls or telegrams informing the house what he was doing or when he might come back. The staff didn’t seem worried about him, and when one of the maids had cleaned his room, Sho had hung around, asking if Jun’s behavior was unusual. Apparently Matsumoto had once disappeared for nearly two weeks, returning one night as though he’d never left.

In his employer’s absence, Sho had done his best to settle in. The chalkboard order was already filled, and it would arrive by train in a day or so. A man from Matsumoto City would attach it to a frame with wheels at the base so Sho could move it freely around the library as he taught. The custom work table for Keita was being built by a carpenter in town, who expected to deliver it in the next week. On Mao’s suggestion, the table was being built with rounded corners, no sharp edges.

Aiba had driven Sho to town where he’d visited a shrine to pray for the strength to guide Keita in his studies. After that he’d gone to a few bookshops, finding a few insect guidebooks. Though Sho had never been a fan of bugs and didn’t really enjoy reading about cockroaches and ants before bed, he already had a few ideas for lessons and reading assignments he could give to Keita once he was more engaged.

Today, however, there’d be no teaching. Even before his accident, Keita had not met too many people. He’d had his grandfather and his parents, the house staff. There’d been his fellow students and friends at his school. But Keita hadn’t seen any of them since the accident. He only saw his doctors and Mao-san, occasionally Aiba-san if Mao needed help. The nurse hadn’t given Sho a straight answer about how often Matsumoto Jun visited his nephew in his room, but he got the sense that Matsumoto was not a very familiar face around the house period, let alone Keita’s room.

So the introduction to a new face, Sho’s face, would be on Keita’s terms. Mao had spoken in the library with Sho for a full hour that morning, preparing him. The boy had one leg amputated at the knee and the other was only comfortable if Keita kept it at an angle. Apparently the doctors had had to put metal pins into the boy’s leg to fix shattered bone. Mao said Keita preferred to be covered with blankets, that he didn’t want anyone to see what had happened to his body. Sho was under strict instructions never to mention Keita’s injuries in case it might upset him.

It didn’t take much to upset the poor boy, Sho had learned the past few nights. He’d heard screaming once or twice, but more often it was crying, lonely tears in his isolated room. Sho lay awake in bed each night, blinking back tears of his own as he heard Mao’s bedroom door beside his open and close in the middle of the night.

He saved his pity for night time, taking a look at himself in one of the mirrors in the hall, ensuring that he looked friendly and cheerful. He wore a brown tweed suit with a red bow tie, thinking the little pop of color would be an interesting distraction for a boy who might not be comfortable with meeting a stranger’s eyes. He had other distractions. A bright blue yo-yo. A few photographs of Kyoto and Karuizawa along with a folded paper map of Japan in case Keita was curious about where Sho had been born and where he’d last been before coming to Pinetree Manor. He also had a photograph of the big sheepdog that had belonged to his grandmother when he was a boy. Haru-san had remembered the other day that Keita had once asked his parents if they might get him a dog someday, so talking about Hoshi the sheepdog was another tactic to ease his introduction.

The bedroom door opened and Mao waved for him to come. Sho kept his footsteps quiet as he approached, standing in the doorway and waiting to be acknowledged. The room was fairly dark, heavy curtains blocking out the light (apparently a doctor’s suggestion so that the boy could sleep if he was in pain at any time of day). Keita’s wheelchair was parked at the foot of his bed. 

Other than that it seemed like a normal young boy’s room, the walls adorned with pictures of snow-capped mountains and Japanese castles. The room itself had originally been Matsumoto Natsuko’s parlor, where she’d written letters in the morning and liked to knit in her free time. It was Jun-san who’d had the ground floor room converted while his nephew was still in the hospital recovering from the many surgeries done to save his life. Keita’s upstairs bedroom sat empty.

Matsumoto Keita was sitting upright in bed, large pillows piled up behind him and a blanket tucked around him at his waist. He was small, reminding Sho of his own childhood. He’d been smaller than most other boys his age, not having a real growth spurt until he was already in high school. He was pale but not sickly, with neatly combed black hair.

Like his uncle, he had a thick set of eyebrows and large, almost exaggerated features. On the child they seemed almost extreme. It was a face that needed to be grown into. Sho shook away the thought of the mysterious Matsumoto Jun with his sad brown eyes and anxious behavior. The man wasn’t here. It was on Mao-san and on Sho to see to Keita’s welfare and education in his absence.

Keita turned his eyes to Sho, and for all that the child was ten years old, there was a weariness to him - the slump of his shoulders, the way his short fingers clutched at his blanket - that made him seem wise beyond his years.

As Mao had suggested, she spoke first, standing at Sho’s side. “Keita-kun,” she said, “this man is Sakurai Sho-sensei. He’s come from Kyoto where he was also a tutor. Your Uncle Jun has brought him here to live with us.”

“Hello,” Sho said gently, bowing to the boy. “I’m Sho.”

Keita said nothing in reply, but Mao had already told him to expect it. Keita hadn’t spoken very much since the accident. Keita did, however, incline his head in greeting.

“Do you think Sho-sensei could sit here next to you and talk? I’ll sit next to him.”

The child looked at Mao with that haunted look in his eyes, but he nodded in agreement.

Permission granted, Sho sat in one of the chairs at Keita’s bedside, Mao taking a seat beside him so Keita wouldn’t have to turn and look back and forth between them. Sho couldn’t help but notice the bottles of large white pills on the bedside table, the jars that held creams to rub on the boy’s joints and skin to ensure he didn’t develop bed sores or other ailments.

Mao continued talking, explaining that Sho had worked in Kyoto, that he had come here to set up a special school just for Keita. “Do you think that might be fun? Studying with Sho-sensei?”

The boy just shrugged.

Sho spent an hour talking quietly, almost entirely about himself. He made only brief mentions of his family, his parents and two younger siblings in Karuizawa. He saw Keita perk up when he mentioned the orchards at his grandparents’ house, how he’d picked apples there in the fall and played with Hoshi the sheepdog. He’d given Keita the picture, asking him if he’d hold onto it for him. Keita had agreed, and even as Sho kept talking, the boy’s attention remained on the picture, his small fingers tracing the dog’s face and shaggy fur.

He eventually lost Keita’s attention entirely, and Mao intervened.

“Keita-kun, would it be okay if Sho-sensei came back to talk again tomorrow?”

Keita nodded.

“Sho-sensei is setting up a classroom here in the house for you. It’ll have a chalkboard and a desk just like your classroom was like at Nagano Boys’ School. What do you think of that?”

This time the boy only stared at them. It wasn’t a good sign…but it wasn’t a bad sign either.

“Maybe after you chat with Sho-sensei a few more times, we can go into the library with him and learn some more about dogs like Hoshi.”

Keita’s fingers traced along the dog’s outline again, and he nodded.

Mao patted Sho’s leg, and they both got to their feet.

“I’m really excited to talk with you some more, Keita-kun. It was nice to meet you. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “And please hold onto that picture. I appreciate it.”

Keita slipped the picture underneath his blanket, offering Sho a look that wasn’t quite a smile, but seemed rather close. Sho definitely needed to get more books about dogs. He’d have to check the library shelves that night and head into town to buy whatever he could find. It would sure be better reading material than the bug books he’d suffered through.

He and Mao stepped back into the hall and once the door was closed, she leaned back against the wall with a look bordering on relief. There were tears in her eyes, but Sho decided not to comment on them. “He was so quiet,” she said.

“That’s good?”

“He often screams when the doctor comes to visit. You’re the first new face he’s seen in almost three months. I’m hoping this wasn’t a fluke.”

“We’ll take things one day at a time, Mao-san,” Sho said. “You’re a real help.”

She blushed, looking down. “He’s a good boy, Keita-kun is. He’s kind and gentle, and life has been cruel to him. But I think today was a good start.”

Sho grinned. “Everyone loves dogs. Maybe you should tell that doctor to bring one along for house calls.”

She laughed for the first time since they’d been acquainted, and it made him happy to see it. Hers was the hardest job of all in Pinetree Manor. “Now that’s an idea I hadn’t considered, Sensei.”


	2. Chapter 2

Over the next four days, Sho could tell that Keita was growing used to him being in the house. Though they hadn’t made Keita leave his room, the boy seemed happy enough when Sho stopped by in the afternoon to chat with him.

Keita still hadn’t said anything out loud with Sho in the room, save for a few whispers that were only for Mao’s ears. Sho wasn’t too bothered by it. Back in his university days while working on his doctorate, he’d been given the opportunity to teach classes. He was used to lecturing for an hour or longer and only receiving sullen faces in return. At least Keita-kun seemed to like him.

Or maybe it was the dogs.

Another trip to town in the car with Aiba had resulted in the purchase of three different books about dogs. One about different breeds and their characteristics, another about famous pets in history (many of them dogs), and a book of short fictional stories about dogs clearly aimed at young readers. 

Sho spent one full session with Keita describing Irish wolfhounds, which had Keita close to smiling the entire time. The boy’s shyness returned whenever Sho held out the book, asking if he wanted to try reading a paragraph out loud himself. Instead Keita just shook his head, gesturing with his hand. “You read it,” he was suggesting. “Just you.”

The afternoon sessions went longer and longer, with Mao having to do less speaking herself, allowing Sho to take charge. Keita would occasionally get cranky, his eyes filling with tears, and that was when Mao would take over, administering medicine or asking Sho to leave momentarily so she could massage the boy’s sore leg. But otherwise Sho felt like definite progress was being made.

He closed the book for the day, leaning forward to smile at his pupil. “I was wondering, Keita, if maybe we could work together in the library tomorrow? I thought we could review all the different dogs we learned about, but it’s easier for me if I can write on the chalkboard. Do you think that would be fun to try?”

Keita looked first at Mao, almost like he was asking permission. When she nodded, Keita looked back at Sho, giving him a firm and confident nod.

“Great!” Sho said. He set the dog book down on the bed beside Keita, tapping it with his finger. “I’m going to leave this with you so you can have a look at it before we meet again. I’ll be counting on you to help me with this, okay?”

Keita took the book in his hands, holding it carefully.

Saying his goodbyes for the day, he left Keita’s room and headed for the library. The desk for Keita had just arrived from the carpenter that morning, and he ran his hand over the smooth surface, smiling. The lesson he had planned was far from elaborate. He’d simply ask Keita to write down some characteristics of the dogs they’d read about together, a way to both have fun and practice his penmanship, and if he wasn’t up to it, Sho had some crayons in his teaching trunk so Keita could simply draw what he felt like. 

Getting him out of that bedroom was the first and most important step. The activities Sho had planned so far were a bit juvenile for a ten year old, but putting Keita at ease would be the priority until he was accustomed to daily lessons.

He eagerly told the staff what Keita had already accomplished, and many of them seemed rather surprised and pleased. “If we learned about dogs instead of geometry, I think I would have stayed in school longer,” Ohno-san mumbled, earning a pinch to the cheek from his chuckling wife.

Later on he had a bath and dressed in his pajamas, settling in to read in bed. He hoped that the following day would go smoothly, that Keita would be able to sit in his chair and be comfortable after being cooped up in his room for so long. Sho could feel his eyelids growing heavy, the words of his book beginning to blur. He was just sticking his bookmark between pages when there was the lightest tap on his door. 

The clock on his nightstand read 12:16 AM. He’d been reading for longer than he’d expected. Pushing off his blankets and sliding into his slippers, he padded quickly to the door. Perhaps it was Mao-san, needing help with Keita. He hadn’t heard any screaming though…

Pulling open the door, he was surprised to find Matsumoto Jun standing in the corridor, holding his suit jacket limply in his arms. “Sensei,” he said, nodding in greeting.

Sho was taken aback, standing there in cotton pajamas with his long-absent employer at the door. He’d been gone for over a week, and had not sent word at all the entire time. Now he was at Sho’s door after midnight? “You’ve returned,” he mumbled. 

“Did I wake you?”

“No,” Sho said. Though he’d been on the edge of sleep moments earlier, coming face-to-face with Matsumoto had him awake once more. “Has something happened?”

Matsumoto leaned in a little closer, resting his hand on the doorframe. Reflexively, Sho took a step back. “I know it’s late, but I thought maybe we could speak privately.”

“Now? You want to speak now?” Sho blinked, wondering if his brain was misfiring because of a need for sleep or because Matsumoto was standing so close. “I’m sorry, don’t you think…”

“It’s been a busy few days for me. Hearing about what’s happened here at the house in my absence would be…” Matsumoto looked aside, almost embarrassed. “I’ve only just returned, I know, but I don’t think I can sleep just yet…”

Sho stifled a complaint, not wanting to disobey or displease his employer, unreliable though the man seemed to be. If he wanted to know what had happened at the house while he was gone, wouldn’t it have made more sense to wake Aiba-san? After all, Aiba was in charge of all comings and goings at Pinetree Manor in Matsumoto’s absence. He kept those thoughts to himself, taking another step back. “Would you like to come in?”

Matsumoto shook his head, turning on his heel and whispering over his shoulder. “Come on, follow me.”

Sho hurried into his robe, tying the sash hastily. He closed his bedroom door as quietly as he could manage, shuffling down the hall to the staircase. The house was quiet and dark, though Matsumoto had turned on some lights downstairs which helped Sho as he went down the steps to follow him.

Instead of ending up in the study where they’d first met, he found Matsumoto in the kitchen going through cutlery drawers. There was the quietest clinking of silverware before Matsumoto found a knife and two forks. They were soon joined at the staff dining table by two plates. Sho had a seat at the table, seeing a sky blue round box tied with a silver ribbon.

His stomach nearly growled when Matsumoto untied the ribbon, pulling the box open to reveal a heavily-frosted cake. “I bought three,” Matsumoto said, not even bothering to ask if Sho wanted some before slicing into the chocolate decisively. “Other two are in the icebox.”

“My mother always said not to eat in the middle of the night,” Sho said, watching Matsumoto put a massive slice onto a plate for him.

“Apologies to her, but this is the best you’ll ever try,” Matsumoto replied, smirking as he slid the plate across the table for Sho anyhow.

Soon enough the two of them were eating quietly, Sho taking a moment to examine the lid on the cake box. It was from a bakery in Tokyo, Ikuta Cakes and Treats. So Matsumoto had definitely been to the capital, hadn’t lied to the staff about his destination.

“Do you always bring treats back with you?”

Matsumoto nodded, having another bite. “Aiba-san, Ohno-san…they’re the sweet tooth type. At least thought you should have the opportunity to get a slice before the other two cakes vanish.”

“That’s kind of you.” He took a healthy bite, knowing he ought to be a little more self-conscious about having frosting smeared all over his lips in front of his employer. Then again, Matsumoto already had a smudge of chocolate at the corner of his mouth.

While they ate, Sho volunteered information without prompting, describing everything that had happened with Keita. Ordering the chalkboard and work table, purchasing books, meeting with Keita in his room. He told Matsumoto about the first lesson in the library due to happen come afternoon.

“Remarkable,” Matsumoto murmured. “You’ve made such progress with him.”

“Well, we don’t know how he’s going to take to proper lessons,” Sho explained. “Me reading to him is quite different than expecting him to write and participate more fully. Mao-san thinks we’ve been lucky so far, that we should just take it one day at a time.”

“She’d know best,” Matsumoto admitted, not even asking before grabbing Sho’s plate and adding another slice to it. He then got to his feet, heading for the icebox. “Is milk okay for you or shall I make some coffee?”

He flushed in surprise, imagining someone of Matsumoto Jun’s social standing making _him_ coffee. Sure, it would be kind of him, but it struck Sho as inappropriate, given their positions. In addition, Sho had spent most of the week Matsumoto Jun had been absent having negative thoughts about him. About his lack of communication, about his lack of interest in being present for his ailing nephew. He wasn’t quite ready to forgive and forget just yet, even if Matsumoto had no idea about his feelings.

“Milk is fine. Thank you.”

Matsumoto poured out some milk for each of them. The cook and kitchen staff would be undoubtedly confused by the dirty dishes waiting for them in the morning. Or was Matsumoto’s impulsive behavior something they were used to?

“Business kept you busy in Tokyo, then?” Sho asked, knowing Matsumoto didn’t owe him any answers. He couldn’t help being curious. Over a week with no word from him and now here he was making Sho eat cake with him in the kitchen after midnight.

Matsumoto nodded. “Yes.”

“The staff told me you are regularly called away,” he said, having a sip of milk and hoping he wasn’t going too far.

“I am,” Matsumoto said, another short answer. He didn’t seem irritated, though perhaps he was hiding it as well as Sho hid his own.

He had a few more bites, letting Matsumoto turn the discussion back to Keita. Sho told him about the lessons he’d already planned, offering a timetable. He didn’t anticipate Keita being ready for any sort of traditional lessons for at least another month or two.

“But of course, if you had other ideas for your nephew’s instruction, I’m happy to listen.”

Matsumoto shook his head. “You know what you’re doing. I’ll trust your judgment.”

“I appreciate that,” Sho admitted, “but at the end of the day, it is your call to make. Perhaps once Keita-kun’s lessons in the library are underway you can visit and see for yourself if what I’m teaching him is what you expected. I must confess, Matsumoto-san, that I am used to parents having a firm hand. That I should spend x amount of time on arithmetic, x amount on reading, x amount on Japanese…”

“Does it bother you when parents do that?” Matsumoto was looking at him curiously, his eyes alert behind his glasses. “When they tell you how to do your job?”

Sho was surprised by the question. “I…I wouldn’t say it bothers me so much as it’s an expectation. They are paying money for my services and expertise, sure, but they also want to see their children develop as they prefer.”

Matsumoto seemed a bit annoyed, but not at Sho himself. “So let me try and understand. Say you have a student, a young woman, who excels at mathematics. She has an aptitude for it that blows you away. You know this because you work with her, you observe her closely. You understand her strengths. But then her parents say that it’s not really a girl’s place to bother with mathematics, and they tell you to focus more on other things. You’re telling me that you’d do as the parents wished without question?”

Sho swallowed, his leg shaking a bit under the table. “The parents have the final say, regardless of what I think.”

“You wouldn’t argue? You wouldn’t try to convince them of their daughter’s abilities?”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t argue. I’ve just found that parents have certain expectations and even if I offer evidence and argument to the contrary, they will make up their own minds.” He took a breath. “In my last position, it was the grandparents who believed they knew best.”

“And what did they think was best?”

“They felt that their granddaughters had little need of any further instruction, period. That learning proper manners and behavior was more essential than analyzing poetry or studying algebra. So I was released from the position.”

Matsumoto shook his head. “That’s appalling.”

“It’s their belief. And more importantly, it’s their money to spend as they wish.”

“Sensei, you will find that I am not the type of employer you are accustomed to. Perhaps you’ve already reached that conclusion.”

He had another sip of milk, not wanting to admit the truth of it. Tired as he was, thinking about the students he’d had and the opportunities lost had him riled up. He couldn’t help thinking of the three girls back in Kyoto, how abruptly their continued education had been stolen away from them.

“I cannot always be here, Sensei. Because of that, I have surrounded myself with people I can trust. And people who will be unafraid to come to me with better-informed opinions than the ones I hold. When it comes to Keita’s health, I listen to Mao-chan and I listen to the doctors. When it comes to finances, I listen to Ninomiya-san, our estate manager. When it comes to the house and staff, I trust Aiba-san.”

Matsumoto Jun leaned forward, tapping the table with his fingertips.

“And when it comes to Keita’s education, I am going to look to you. You’ve been teaching for many years, and I barely finished school. Which of us do you think knows what’s best for someone like Keita? If there are books you need for his instruction, buy them. If there are supplies you need, buy them. If you want to teach him for an hour a day or six, the choice is yours. If you want to take a week off so Keita can have a break, that choice is yours as well. Am I making myself clear?”

“You are, sir.”

There was the slightest smile on Matsumoto’s lips. “You’re not used to this amount of freedom.”

Sho looked down, slightly embarrassed by how intensely Matsumoto had spoken to him, looked at him. The man barely knew him, but he trusted him implicitly. Sho hoped he could live up to it. But something still bothered him.

“I must be frank with you, Matsumoto-san.” He raised his eyes, saw that Matsumoto still looked amused with him. “Even though I am Keita’s tutor, you should not remove yourself from the equation entirely.”

“Is that so?”

He nodded. “I still intend to provide you with updates on what Keita has accomplished. And you have every right to evaluate the progress he has made. You have every right to evaluate _me_.”

“Of course.”

“What Keita needs is stability,” Sho blurted out. “What every student needs is stability. The progress I’ve made with Keita can only continue if the environment and instruction provided remains stable. I’m not going to throw things at him that he’s not ready for. That library, my classroom, will be a safe place where he can learn at his own speed. If at any point you wish for there to be changes made, whether it’s what I’m teaching him or the way I teach, you cannot expect me to change anything abruptly. The trust I am building with him is paramount.”

“Have I not already told you that I won’t interfere? That I trust you to know what’s best?”

“You may trust me, Matsumoto-san, based only on my credentials and on letters of recommendation. But as we’ve really only spoken twice, I do not know you well enough to return the favor yet.”

Sho regretted it as soon as he said it. It was a rude thing to say, especially to someone who, title or no, was far from his social equal.

To Sho’s surprise, Matsumoto actually chuckled, a warm but quiet sound that sent a pleasing shiver down Sho’s spine. 

“Then we shall have to remedy that, Sensei.” He got up, taking their empty plates and cups and depositing them in the sink. “I’ll do my best to be worthy of your trust. Good night.”

Obviously dismissed, Sho dabbed at the side of his mouth with his finger, wiping away a few errant crumbs. What he’d just said was enough for a scolding from any other employer, but Matsumoto had done the opposite.

He’d laughed.

He got to his feet, bowing politely before heading back upstairs. Sho was certain he’d never again have an employer quite like Matsumoto Jun.

—

The first two weeks of Keita’s lessons in the library went as well as Sho expected. Out of fourteen days, Keita was well enough to join Sho in the library on nine of them. The first few times, Keita had not been interested in doing any work or speaking. Mao-san had sat beside him on the sofa, asking him at regular intervals if he felt okay.

Sho largely learned to ignore Mao’s whispered interruptions, since he had been instructed not to make any mention of Keita’s condition in front of him. Other than helping to adjust the table so Keita could sit comfortably before it in his wheelchair, Sho treated him as he would any other student.

While in the library, in his wheelchair, Keita kept a thick pile of blankets on his lap that covered his legs. Pale from many months inside, he was not as sullen or uncooperative as Sho had expected. He didn’t necessarily want to do the exact lesson Sho had prepared, but with some coaxing from Mao and Sho both, he had agreed to at least do something.

For the first several lessons, he spent half of his time smiling or nodding along as Sho read aloud once again from the books about dogs. He paid close attention as Sho drew on the new chalkboard, as he wrote down different words pertinent to the stories. Words like dog and puppy, tail and paw, barking and howling. 

In the second week of lessons, Keita agreed to do some drawing. Ohno-san, though he spent most of his time outdoors tending to the gardens and lawns, liked to draw in his free time, and he had often given sketches to him. After a few exchanged whispers with Mao, Keita had decided that he wanted to draw as well.

Before Keita was given free time to work on his art, Sho asked him to participate in a lesson. He asked Keita to draw some of the dogs he’d spoken about, which he did to the best of his ability. Then once Keita was comfortable with the crayons, Sho asked him to write down different words about the dogs. Keita’s handwriting was a bit sloppy, but without even saying a word, Sho was getting a response from him. Just as Sho had drawn on the board, he saw words form on Keita’s drawing paper. Names of specific dogs, the colors of their fur, and descriptive words. Furry. Short. Big. Fat. Muddy paws. Wagging tail.

Toward the end of the second week, however, Keita’s focus changed a little. Though he followed along with Sho’s lessons somewhat, he used his free drawing time in increasingly strange ways. During these times, Sho would often put a record on the Victrola, would let it play and would sit on the sofa reading his newspapers, occasionally telling Keita about the weather, about conditions in the mountains, about what was happening in Matsumoto City. Mao would sit by, her face calm until the drawings started again.

At first the two of them thought they were circles. Keita would cover his paper with circles, again and again. But it had only been practice. Soon the circles had spokes. They became wheels. The wheels drifted to the bottom of the coloring pages and more shapes were added above. It was when he drew what was clearly the engine, a dark plume of smoke emerging from it, that Sho and Mao realized what was happening.

Keita’s lessons for the day had ended, and he was down for a late afternoon nap to recover his energy. Mao and Sho sat side by side on the library sofa, passing that day’s drawings back and forth. It had been far more understandable when they’d been dogs.

“He’s drawing a train,” Sho said quietly, fingers tracing the wheels, the connected carriages and engine.

“Do you think he’s drawing the specific train…the one he was on?” Mao asked, her voice hesitant and sad after so many positive days where Keita had done so well. 

Sho leaned over, pulling over a few more of his drawings. Wheels and carriages, always a black plume rising into the air. “He hasn’t drawn anything derailing,” he murmured. “All of these trains are intact. He hasn’t said anything?”

Mao shook her head, frowning. “He whispers to me about the dog book, and he sometimes whispers about your clothes.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Sho grumbled, feeling self-conscious.

Mao smiled weakly, tugging at the sleeve of his plaid jacket. “He likes them, Sho-san. He thinks your fashion sense is quite good.”

“But no train accidents. Nothing about what happened to him or his parents?”

Mao sighed, taking another of Keita’s drawings between her fingers. “He has nightmares, and I’m sure it’s about the accident, but he doesn’t speak of it. Not to me.”

Sho frowned. Keita wasn’t quite ready for any sort of advanced tutoring yet, but he came into the library with hopeful eyes and a willingness to participate, even if it wasn’t exactly what Sho had planned. He clearly liked his free drawing time, holding the crayons tightly in his small hands, covering blank sheet after blank sheet with his creativity.

But what should they do about this sort of creativity? Was it healthy? Was it harmful?

Sho had been planning to move past dogs and on to the bug books he’d purchased when he’d first arrived. He even had a secret math lesson embedded in one of his plans, asking Keita to add up the number of legs of some insects to practice his counting and other basic math skills. Maybe the change of pace would get Keita off of his train kick.

But Sho had a sinking suspicion that even if Keita participated in Sho’s actual lessons, he’d still use his free drawing time to draw the circles and the spokes and the carriages and the engine. Sho didn’t dare take the free drawing period away, if only because Keita was growing increasingly passionate about that time. He came to the library eager to listen to Sho, if only because he knew that listening meant he’d eventually get to use the crayons again.

“Perhaps we should ask the doctor? I don’t want him to hurt himself, re-living those horrors again,” Sho admitted. “He may not realize it yet, but if he keeps drawing trains, he might have an episode. He might get lost in it.”

Mao nodded. “I agree.” She set the drawings down. “But I’d rather not call them without telling Jun-san.”

“Would you like me to speak to him?”

“That would probably be best,” Mao agreed, deferring to him in his role as Keita’s teacher.

For the last two weeks, Matsumoto Jun hadn’t been much more than a shadow at Pinetree Manor. As Keita’s lessons had begun in earnest, Sho had repeatedly asked him to come and visit, whether it was passing his request through Aiba or asking him in passing in the halls. Since their late night chat in the kitchen, he and Matsumoto hadn’t done more than exchange pleasantries or speak of neutral topics like the weather or stories from the newspaper.

Matsumoto always had some excuse not to come to the lessons.

He’d gone to Tokyo for a long weekend, but otherwise he’d mostly stayed local. With his fancy motorcar, he apparently liked to go out on long drives on the winding mountain roads. He’d go out after breakfast and return shortly before sunset, looking far happier than he usually did. Perhaps he found Pinetree Manor stifling and took any chance he got to escape.

When he wasn’t off on a drive or in town for the day, he liked to walk around the grounds. Sho had even seen him from his bedroom window one morning, Ohno-san at Matsumoto’s side as they walked through the gardens, Matsumoto examining individual plants as Ohno presumably described the current state of things.

In the evenings he ate alone in the dining room. Keita wasn’t well enough to join him there, though perhaps it would be an expectation in the future. As master of the house, Matsumoto had every right to demand a full meal service with staff waiting on him course by course. As far as Sho understood it, however, he just had the cook’s assistant bring his entire meal on one tray, waving off anyone who tried to cater to him further.

Sho wondered if it was a lonely life, driving alone. Dining alone. What had Matsumoto Jun given up in Tokyo to come back to his childhood home? Was there someone in Tokyo that he cared for? That would certainly explain why he went back so often and why he stayed for days at a time.

After leaving the library, Aiba told him that Matsumoto was in his bedroom. Apparently a shipment of clothing had arrived for him. Though he didn’t much like being doted on by the staff, he did allow himself to indulge in some aspects of a wealthy lifestyle. Aside from his fancy car, Matsumoto spent freely on clothing. On shoes and accessories and hats. 

“He has driving gloves imported from Italy, the finest leather,” Aiba had admitted to him one day. “Don’t make the same mistake I did, asking him about it. He wouldn’t stop talking about the craftsmanship. The craftsmanship, Sho-san, the craftsmanship!”

Sho grinned at the memory, the gentle teasing Aiba had allowed himself behind Matsumoto’s back. He climbed the stairs, holding a few of Keita’s drawings in hand. He wondered if Matsumoto would even allow the interruption.

The master’s suite of rooms was at the far end of the hall, and he knocked on the door. “Aiba-san?” came Matsumoto’s voice from inside.

“It’s Sakurai.”

“Oh. Come on in, Sensei.”

“Please excuse me,” he replied, opening the door.

The main door led to a private sitting room, furnished with the same grand furniture as most of the house. A matching pair of overstuffed sofas, a few chairs, and a low coffee table. There was a cart behind one of the sofas adorned with liquor bottles and glassware. In one corner there was a large standing mirror. Matsumoto Jun was standing in front of it, surrounded by open boxes from Tokyo department stores.

He was in dark slacks and one of his crisp white dress shirts, standing before the mirror barefoot and wearing a slight frown. Today his hair was unstyled, neatly brushed but not slicked with pomade. It made him look younger. In one hand he held a red tie, in the other hand a dark blue. Sho watched for a moment as Matsumoto lifted each hand back and forth, holding the tie at his collar, seeing how they looked on him. “How are you doing today, Sensei?”

Sho stayed back, standing beside one of the sofas. Just past the mirror and Matsumoto’s boxes was an open door leading to the bedroom. He could just make out a large bed and an armoire inside. “I’m fine, thank you, sir.”

Matsumoto turned, offering a polite smile. “Red or blue?” He held up both ties for Sho’s inspection.

Sho cocked his head. “What’s the occasion?”

“Dinner.”

“That red’s a bit flashy for dinner, I think.”

Matsumoto’s smile was almost contagious. “Red it is, then.”

Matsumoto disappeared into his bedroom, returning a few moments later without the two ties. He rubbed his hands together, walking towards him.

“If I’d said something negative about the blue, you’d have chosen the blue, wouldn’t you?” Sho asked, unable to keep quiet about it.

“I don’t think flashy is always a negative thing, Sensei,” Matsumoto teased, having a seat on one of the sofas. He gestured for Sho to sit. “But of course, you didn’t come here to talk about clothes.”

Sho sat, settling the pictures down on the coffee table. “I’m afraid my visit is more serious than that. For the past week, I’ve given Keita time to draw freely. Whatever he wants to so long as we spend the first half of our day doing proper lessons. Now he’s taken to drawing with real enthusiasm, and I’m glad of it, but unfortunately the last few days he’s chosen to draw this.”

Matsumoto leaned forward, his cufflinks clinking against the wood as he pulled the drawings across the table and into his hands. Sho was quiet for a moment as Matsumoto pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, examining each picture with a neutral expression. When he had looked at them all, he looked up at Sho expectantly.

“Mao-san and I were a bit concerned about this. Since Keita has been so eager to draw, we haven’t told him not to draw trains, but we thought it might be worth contacting his doctors, seeing if it’s harmful to let him continue.”

“He hasn’t drawn any train crashes?” Matsumoto asked, his voice shaking the slightest bit.

“Not so far, no. Only the things I’ve shown you there.”

Matsumoto bit his lip, looking through the collection of papers once more. “It can’t hurt to give the doctor a call. Have Mao call their offices first thing tomorrow, just to get an opinion on it. I don’t see any need for them to come to the house and interfere, especially since it sounds like Keita is doing well in the classroom. If the doctors want you to stop him, though, how are you and Mao-chan planning to proceed?”

“We don’t have a solid solution yet, but it was my thinking that instead of outright telling Keita that he can’t draw trains, I would spend more time on lessons and tell him to spend drawing time for more specific purposes. Like drawing grasshoppers or pillbugs.”

“Grasshoppers or pillbugs?”

Sho grinned gently. “Ohno-san told me that before the accident, Keita was very fond of hunting for bugs in the garden. I thought some lessons about insects would go over well with him.”

Matsumoto crinkled his nose. “I’ve never been fond of insects.”

“Me neither,” Sho admitted. “The reading I’ve done to come up with lesson ideas has been dreadful. Mantises and hornets and worms…”

“Save it for your lessons, Sensei,” Matsumoto said, shuddering a little as he set Keita’s drawings back on the table. “I don’t need that sort of science lesson myself.”

“I’ll have Mao-san call the doctor, and we’ll proceed from there.”

“That’s good. I’m glad to hear that he’s trying his best otherwise.”

“He’s doing remarkably well. I’m hopeful that over the next few weeks I’ll be able to have him start some more challenging lessons.” Sho gathered up the papers, getting to his feet. “But I interrupted you, so I won’t take up any more of your time, Matsumoto-san.”

Matsumoto got up as well, holding out a hand. “Wait.”

Sho looked up, a bit confused.

“Will you join me for dinner?”

Sho froze, his heart racing. It seemed like a rather innocent request. Perhaps Matsumoto just wanted to talk more about Keita’s lessons. “Tonight, sir?” he managed to babble in reply, wondering if his foolish attraction was obvious.

“Yes, I’m meeting our lawyer in town for dinner this evening, and you’re welcome to join us. I’d like to introduce you, and Ninomiya’s always looking for me to treat him to a meal. Lawyers, you know…but I might as well treat you, too.”

“Oh,” Sho said, feeling an odd mixture of ashamed and disappointed. Of course it wouldn’t just be the two of them. “Yes, thank you very much.”

“He’s an odd fellow, Ninomiya, but I think you’ll like him.” Matsumoto rested his hands on his hips. “I’m driving into town, so meet me by the garage at 7:00.”

“Yes, sir. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go talk to Mao-san.”

He left Matsumoto’s rooms embarrassed by his conduct. He was behaving around his employer like he had a schoolboy crush, and Sho had long prided himself on his professional behavior. It was difficult enough being attracted to men, expending so much effort to keep it hidden—it was worse when one of those men was the person who paid his salary. If his true feelings were discovered, he would likely be fired on the spot.

He wondered if his feelings were transparent. Though they hadn’t spoken much, it was all too easy to be drawn in to Matsumoto’s orbit. To his smiles, to the graceful way he carried himself. To the mystery around him, the way he so often vanished and reappeared at Pinetree Manor, drawing both Sho’s disapproval and curiosity. If only he could act like a selfish, self-indulgent lord, a hedonist without shame, then Sho could dislike him. Then Sho’s attraction could fade.

Unfortunately, Matsumoto Jun wasn’t that type of person, and he’d just have to work harder to tamp those feelings down.

—

Matsumoto had already pulled his car onto the gravel drive when Sho approached, finding him sitting behind the wheel wearing a pair of dark leather gloves. “It’s a beautiful night, and the weather report on the radio called for clear skies. Thought I’d keep the top down, but if you’re worried about your hair…”

“My hair will be just fine,” Sho said, knowing that of the two of them, Matsumoto Jun paid far more attention to his hair anyhow.

He opened the door, sliding into the passenger seat beside Matsumoto. It was sleeker in design than the family’s car that Aiba often drove him in. He saw a quirk to Matsumoto’s lips as his gloved hand pulled on the gear shift. “Let’s take the scenic route.”

Sho didn’t know the roads very well yet, so he wouldn’t know a scenic route from any other, but he let the cooler night breeze ruffle his hair as Matsumoto roared the convertible down the drive and away from the manor. As a driver, Sho quickly learned that Matsumoto was fearless, speeding onto the narrow road faster than Sho thought was necessary.

He had the headlamps on to light the road ahead of them, but Sho wondered if Matsumoto even needed them, so confident was he as they barreled around curves and corners. Sho was certain that if he’d been wearing his hat that he’d have lost it by now.

The “scenic” route took them into Matsumoto City in half an hour at Matsumoto speed. If it was really scenic, Sho couldn’t tell. He spent half the drive shutting his eyes every time the car whipped around a curve. They saw only one other set of headlamps as they drove, the backroads eerily quiet and isolated.

They drove without speaking, and Sho felt like he understood why. There were no words for it as the wind hit them, as he inhaled the green and thriving scent of the pines, the crisp mountain air. He could see why Matsumoto liked his solitary drives. He only had to focus on the road, on the path ahead. The road twisted so much that you couldn’t afford to look away or focus on anything but steering properly. It had to be relaxing in a way to have to shut off everything else, breathe in the air and hear the engine roar.

Coming down from the hilly roads, Matsumoto finally eased up on his speed, entering the city like any other driver. He looked over, chuckling. “Sensei, you look a bit out of sorts.”

Sho looked in the rearview mirror, frowning as he set his hair back in place. Unlike Matsumoto, who looked wild and fearsome, Sho just looked like he had groomed himself in the dark. “They’ll still allow me in the restaurant?”

“Oh yes, if Ninomiya can waltz in wearing those sloppy clothes of his, you’ll look like a member of the Emperor’s family.”

Sho grinned. “Don’t lawyers usually dress themselves properly? To appear in court before a judge?”

“Ninomiya rarely appears in a courtroom,” Matsumoto snickered. “He’s content to sit in his office, sign papers, and listen to baseball games on the radio. And of all the people I’ve met in my life, I can say without a doubt that Ninomiya cares the least about what people think of him.”

“He’s that confident?”

“He makes me want to wring his neck sometimes, but unfortunately I’ve come to be utterly dependent on him. And he very well knows it.”

They pulled in at a restaurant on the west side of town, a sushi restaurant with a good reputation. Before they went in the door, Matsumoto rested a hand on his shoulder.

“He hates raw fish, and I picked this place on purpose to spite him. Let’s say we make a wager, you and me.”

“What sort of wager?” Sho asked, liking the feeling of Matsumoto’s strong hand resting on him so casually.

“Five hundred yen on whether he orders only egg.” Matsumoto laughed gently. “What say you?”

“Well I don’t know him as well as you, but if the wager is small, it can’t hurt. I’ll say that he orders something besides egg.”

Matsumoto held out his hand, and Sho shook it. “I’m going to win.”

Wager made, they entered and were escorted to a small private room in the rear where someone was already waiting. They found a smaller man seated with no jacket who started pouring sake from a bottle for each of them as soon as they arrived. He didn’t bother to get up, only looking between him and Matsumoto with a rather elfin smile.

“Chalkboard-san, I presume?”

Matsumoto sighed, gesturing for Sho to sit first. “He has a proper name.”

“And I do know it,” Ninomiya shot back, his voice sharp and lacking in seriousness. “But I think Chalkboard-san is cuter.”

Sho sat, Matsumoto sitting across from him beside Ninomiya. “Sakurai Sho, nice to meet you.”

“He doesn’t know how to play along yet,” Ninomiya chided, shaking his head. “Ninomiya Kazunari. A pleasure.”

Once they were settled in, they placed orders, and Sho withheld his disappointment as Ninomiya ordered 5 pieces of tamago nigiri for himself right off the bat. Matsumoto nudged Sho’s foot with his own, offering a wink that sent sudden heat through him. His employer was a competitive person. And he couldn’t help liking him for it.

Their meal was relaxed and calm, owing mainly to the attitude of Ninomiya-san himself. He didn’t let up, referring to Sho as “Chalkboard-san” in a way that might be annoying coming from a different stranger, but Ninomiya made it sound like a term of endearment. By the time another round of food was ordered, Ninomiya had insisted that Sho call him “Nino” just like most of the staff of Pinetree Manor did.

Ninomiya was also frank and informal with Matsumoto, claiming that “after all, I’m J’s senior in life.”

Matsumoto pretended to be offended by that, reminding Ninomiya that he was only two months younger than him.

“Two months younger, and I’m your intellectual better!” Nino offered Sho a sly smile. “I do have a law degree, after all.”

Matsumoto rolled his eyes. “Does a doctorate in history outweigh a law degree? Because then Sho-sensei has you beat.”

Sho held up his hands in protest. “The law requires a great deal of formal study, so I’d say with our respective educations that Ninomiya-san and I are equals…”

Nino’s eyes sparkled with mirth…and with the alcohol he was eagerly drinking on Matsumoto’s tab. The more he drank, the more unashamed he was to call Matsumoto by only the letter J, a seeming nickname. “You see, J, you see!”

“…but if age is also a factor in your competition, then I’m afraid I have you both beat. I’m a year and a half older than you,” Sho finished, seeing Matsumoto’s proud smile aimed in his direction.

Nino slumped a bit in the seat before laughing. “Ah, Chalkboard-san, make sure our Jun-kun brings you along from now on. I would prefer to talk of things besides his stupid car for a change.”

“I don’t only speak with you about my car,” Matsumoto protested.

“If it’s not your car, it’s money matters, and that’s my job so I’d rather not mix business with leisure time.” Nino crossed his arms. “Sho-san, has he told you about the acting yet?”

“Nino,” Matsumoto replied sharply, the tone at the table changing in an instant from relaxed to tense. Well, the tension was entirely on Matsumoto’s end.

“The acting?” Sho asked, confused. “If it’s none of my business, you don’t have to…”

Nino ignored him, prodding at Matsumoto’s sleeve with his finger. “What was that stage name of yours again? Aoyama?”

“Miyama,” Matsumoto grumbled, and Sho’s eyes widened. Part of the Matsumoto Jun mystery was unraveling.

“Stage name? Just a moment, Matsumoto-san,” Sho said, leaning forward as he desperately kept from gaping at him. “You’ve acted on the stage?”

“Many years ago,” Matsumoto complained, elbowing Ninomiya rather hard, though the lawyer didn’t seem to mind it. “A foolish endeavor, but it was an income for a time.”

“Oh, don’t let him lie to you like that,” Ninomiya insisted. “This Miyama here was part of an actual acting troupe. Not Shakespeare or anything, but translations of the Swedish fellow and the other one…”

“Ibsen was a Norwegian,” Matsumoto said with a sigh. “And you’re probably thinking of Chekhov, the Russian. We did _Uncle Vanya_ one season.”

“There, there, all the greats. Miyama the actor!”

Matsumoto sighed again, reaching to grab another piece of sushi and shoving it in his mouth. When he spoke again, he hadn’t swallowed all of it, not seeming to care about table manners. Perhaps Ninomiya-san wore off on him a little. “Bit parts only. There were no grand monologues from me. I was only a kid.”

“How long were you an actor?” Sho asked, knowing the topic made Matsumoto uncomfortable, but unable to keep his curiosity at bay.

“Until…” Matsumoto scratched his neck awkwardly. “Until I was 29.”

“And he says many years ago,” Nino crowed. “For an actor, you could be a better liar.”

“Would you please excuse me, I have to use the washroom,” Matsumoto said, getting up and leaving the table.

Sho hid a smile behind his hand, watching Ninomiya laugh at the mayhem he’d caused, having another piece of his nigiri. “You’ve only worked for him a few weeks, Sho-san, so I suppose that explains why he kept that bit of history to himself.”

“He really was an actor? In Tokyo?”

“He really was,” Nino nodded. “Not the prestige of kabuki, you know, but there was an audience for the productions. Seeing Japanese interpretations of the western masters, that sort of thing. I don’t know much myself, since J is one of the most tight-lipped men I’ve ever known, but it was what he got up to when his father kicked him out.”

Sho’s smile faded. “I see.”

“I’ve known him for longer than you know. My father was Lord Taro’s lawyer, so I’ve known Jun since we were boys. When everything happened, Jun went to Tokyo all on his own.”

“I’m afraid he hasn’t told me about any of this. I only know what Aiba-san has said, and I don’t think you should really…I mean, Matsumoto-san might not want me to…”

“He was eighteen when he was disowned,” Nino said bluntly. “I couldn’t imagine what he went through. He didn’t just lose his title, but Taro-san asked him to leave. I asked my father to take him in, since I considered him a friend…not a close friend, but a friend nonetheless. My father refused, as it would have jeopardized his position as the family’s lawyer. Jun made his way in Tokyo, joined that acting troupe. Created a new life for himself.”

“Remarkable,” Sho mumbled, knowing this wasn’t Nino’s story to tell but unable to ask him to stop for fear of offending him.

“My father retired when Lord Taro died. I’d already been working for him, and it was Lord Atsushi who hired me on. He had me draw up his will, naming Jun as a guardian for Keita. It was just another piece of paperwork, you know, something all men do. I never even sent word to Jun about it, since it was so unlikely that anything would happen to such a young lord…I was wrong of course. And then I was the one who had to tell him.”

“He hadn’t been back here at all after his father disowned him?”

“Only a handful of times. Came to congratulate the brother and his bride, though he hadn’t been formally invited. He also came when Keita-kun was born, stayed at an inn here in town. But he always avoided his father, or more like Taro-san had forbidden it, so they met in Matsumoto City, him and Atsushi, behind Taro-san’s back. He told me Atsushi went to Tokyo a few times to see him, but otherwise…”

Some of the puzzle pieces were finally starting to fit. Matsumoto Jun, kicked out of his home before he’d even come of age. He’d had the courage and ability to take his own path, to find a new home, to have a career. Not one Sho would have guessed out of all the careers in the world, but with his good looks and confident bearing, he could see Matsumoto Jun being swooned over by a theater-going audience.

Sho couldn’t even imagine life without the support of his parents. They’d argued here and there over various things, but he dearly loved his family and couldn’t imagine being forced apart from them. But Sho supposed that every family was different.

But Matsumoto Jun the disowned, Matsumoto Jun the Tokyo actor…it explained a lot about him. It explained the ties that probably drew him back to the capital again and again for varying lengths of time. Whether he had a lover there or simply all of his friends from the troupe, Sho could understand why being out here in Nagano so far from that different life he created made him so anxious to return.

“He let you in his car, huh?” Nino asked suddenly, puncturing Sho’s thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“His car, that roaring Italian beast of his. It’s the most precious thing to him. He’s certainly never driven me around in it, though I’ve seen him driving around town like a maniac and I don’t feel that jealous, really…”

Sho raised his eyebrows. “He’s never driven with anyone else?”

“Not around here,” Nino said. “He must like you, Sensei. He barely lets Aiba-kun do more than put gas in it.”

Sho waved his hand dismissively. “He said we should meet, so it was convenient for me to drive with him.”

Ninomiya’s face was a bit more solemn, and he picked up his last remaining piece of sushi, swallowing it down. “I do what’s in my power to help him since there was nothing I could do when we were younger. I may tease him, but only because he needs it, the levity. It’s really hard for him. I know it’s hard for him, living in that house, his father’s house.”

“I can imagine.”

“I hope, Sensei, that you’ll do your part to help him too.”

“Ninomiya-san…” He paused. “Nino, I was hired to help Keita-kun.”

“Of course, of course.” Ninomiya leaned forward, meeting his eyes. “He doesn’t know what to do about that boy. He doesn’t know the first thing. So help him. Please.”

“I will. Of course I will.”

Ninomiya smiled at him. “Sorry for nagging you. I just like knowing Jun-kun has another ally in his corner. They’re good people, the staff at Pinetree Manor, and I know he trusts them, but no matter what he does or says, they’re not going to stop treating him as the master of that house until Keita is grown. They’re never going to meet him on an even field the way you and I can. You may work for him, but you’re different in his eyes, I can already sense that.”

Sho didn’t know what to say. But he for some reason felt that teaching Keita-kun was no longer his only priority at Pinetree Manor.

“He’s on his way back,” Nino whispered. “Shall we have a laugh together to make him jealous of what he missed in his absence?”

Sho gathered his courage, whispering in reply. 

“Order something that isn’t tamago nigiri. Anything at all.”


	3. Chapter 3

Matsumoto was still ticked off as they drove back through Matsumoto City, though Sho knew it wasn’t malicious. Nino had waited several minutes before finally flagging the waitress down to order two more pieces of tamago nigiri along with a solitary piece of grilled eel nigiri as a “stamina booster.”

Sho had only offered a smile in reply when Matsumoto had scowled at him.

As they left town and got back onto the road further up into the hills, Sho raised his voice over the noise of the car. “Did you enjoy the food, Matsumoto-san? I thought the eel was quite good.”

Matsumoto responded by reaching out his hand and smacking Sho in the arm. Sho laughed and Matsumoto gave him another smack. He decided to retire his teasing questions for now, shutting his eyes and letting the wind mess his hair once more. It was now full dark, and the trees lining the road mostly hid the starry sky far above.

He felt just on the edge of danger, with Matsumoto pushing the car’s speed to what had to be against the law. But who would stop him? With such a flashy car, everyone in town and every policeman on the road had to know it was a Matsumoto driving. Nobody else could afford a car like that.

Which led Sho to wonder about what Matsumoto had said about his acting troupe, how he’d only taken on “bit parts.” Disowned from his family for almost half of his life, he’d still managed to earn enough money to live a certain lifestyle if his motorcar and clothing were anything to go on. He wondered how much of Matsumoto’s money came from his acting life and how much came from being a member of his family. Did he receive anything as Keita’s guardian?

They returned to the estate, Matsumoto pulling the car into the garage. They headed back into the house together, standing in the kitchen quietly. The house was in bed for the night, and it was a sharp contrast from the restaurant and from the Matsumoto City nightlife, such as it was.

“A drink?” Matsumoto asked. He’d stopped drinking sake halfway through their meal so he could be sober to drive. Sho had not stopped, but after Nino’s odd manner of encouragement, he felt that it would be good to accept the offer. It seemed like Matsumoto had few friends here. Maybe he needed someone to talk to who wasn’t responsible for cleaning his house or making his meals.

“Sure.” He slipped out of his jacket, settling it over his arm. “In the study?”

“No, we might wake Keita down here. Come on upstairs.”

Sho was grateful that he was probably already flushed from the meal and the sake, and he followed Matsumoto up to his room, joining him in his sitting room for the second time that day.

There was a different air in the master suite this time when Sho draped his jacket over one of the sofas, letting Matsumoto pour him some whiskey. Matsumoto set a glass down for himself, disappearing into his bedroom. He returned looking more comfortable, his jacket discarded and his red tie gone, the first few buttons of his shirt undone. He removed his glasses, setting them on the table, and picked up his whiskey glass.

“Cheers, Sensei.”

“Cheers.”

They clinked glasses quietly to hopefully keep from waking Mao-san further down the hall. She was probably already a light sleeper on account of listening for Keita. The other day, she had explained that Keita had a cord he could tug on that would ring a bell near her bed. Sho had never heard it, so it must have been just quiet enough to only make noise in Mao’s room.

“Thank you again for the meal. It was really good.” He’d been amazed that a restaurant so far from the coast was able to serve such fresh and tasty fish.

“You’re very welcome. You’ve worked hard since you’ve been here, you deserve it.”

“I have barely been here a month, Matsumoto-san.”

“And look what you’ve done in a month. Don’t sell yourself short, look at all that you’ve accomplished with Keita. I’ll have you know that I absolutely hated school.” Matsumoto had another sip. “I’m starting to think that I just had bad teachers.”

Sho chuckled. The alcohol was helping to loosen his tongue, even if the drive back in the cool breeze had mostly sobered him up. “Shall I teach you, too? What would you like to study? I know that insects are already out of the question, so I can’t quite borrow from my lesson plans for Keita-kun.”

Matsumoto laughed as well, gentle and more calm than he’d been at dinner. “You’d probably take issue with my handwriting, but I think it’s a little late and I’m stuck in my ways. I’ve always been terrible at arithmetic, considering how many things I buy without checking price tags.”

“Would you like to borrow the dog books? Keita thinks they’re marvelous.”

Matsumoto smiled. “I never did like homework or writing essays. I think I’d be your least favorite student.”

“You couldn’t possibly be worse than the little boy who gave me a scar.”

“You can’t be serious!”

Sho got out of his seat, liquid courage helping him to move over to sit next to Matsumoto on the other sofa. He rolled up his sleeve, showing the white streak on the inside of his forearm, five inches long. “He was eight years old, and it was near impossible to get that little boy to focus. It was his mother who suggested that we cut out shapes and things we traced onto some heavy paper, and this mark was from when Yoshi-kun thought it would be more fun to cut me with the scissors instead of the paper.”

Matsumoto gasped in surprise, laughing at him. He set his glass down, tugging on Sho’s wrist until his forearm was resting on Matsumoto’s thigh. Sho held in a breath as Matsumoto traced the old scar with his fingertips, a feeling somewhere between a tickle and a caress. His arm jumped a little, shocked at the bold way Matsumoto had grabbed hold of him, had moved to touch him. Then again, Sho was the one who’d gotten up to show the old “war wound” off in the first place.

“He really got you!” Matsumoto murmured, finger still drifting back and forth over Sho’s sensitive skin.

“That was the only position I’ve resigned from. Everything else was lack of funds or a decision not to retain my services. The parents were worried I’d take them to court for damages, but I was happier just to be away from the little devil.”

“Fair enough,” Matsumoto said, finally releasing him. Sho stayed where he was, only taking his arm back and sitting up a bit more instead of nearly falling into the man’s lap after that tug on his arm. Matsumoto’s eyes were dark, and it took him a moment to speak again. “I suppose I wouldn’t be that awful a student.”

“You have no interest in stabbing me, Matsumoto-san? Even after I won our wager earlier?”

“That’s not a stabbing offense,” Matsumoto said with an awkward wave of his hand. “You cheated though, didn’t you? When I was in the washroom, you told him what to order.”

“Are you calling me a liar, sir?”

Matsumoto raised an eyebrow. “Only one dinner with Ninomiya, and he’s turned you to the side of evil where he gleefully resides.” He clucked his tongue. “Despicable.”

He got back up, heading to the other sofa and downing the rest of his whiskey with only a playful smile. If Sho was honest, he missed this. He’d had friends in Kyoto, some scholars from the university and some tutors he’d been introduced to through his employer’s circle of friends. Since coming to Pinetree Manor, he hadn’t been able to speak so candidly, so teasingly. He wrote letters to his friends, but it couldn’t compare to sharing a smile with them.

Of course, as the days went on, he couldn’t say that his feelings toward Matsumoto Jun started and ended at friendship. Especially not now. Especially not after Matsumoto had so easily tugged on his wrist, had raised the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck with a mere brush of his fingers along an old scar. It was foolish to think Matsumoto was attracted in return. It was too much to hope for, that someone with such a glaringly obvious playboy lifestyle—the car, the clothes, the to-and-fro from Tokyo—would be attracted to a man, much less a man like him.

But there were many hours in Sho’s new life here that didn’t revolve around teaching. He supposed it was worth filling those hours with Matsumoto Jun’s company, as much as he allowed it. He tried not to take too much stock in what Ninomiya had claimed, that Matsumoto never let anyone else into his precious car. He probably had dozens of friends in Tokyo to go around with. Sho was just his only local option.

“If you change your mind about studying, I’d be happy to help. You’ve got quite a library in this house for self-study and improvement, you know.”

Matsumoto nodded. “Father always did love his books. Not for reading, of course, but for how smart it made him look.” Matsumoto rolled his eyes. “But let’s not talk about him.”

“Why acting?” Sho held up a hand. “Please, I don’t need any details about the what or the how once you actually started to do it. I’m just curious about how you ended up choosing it.”

“I was hired on to clean a theater, my first job in Tokyo,” Matsumoto admitted, and Sho could almost imagine a younger version of him taking on any job he could find. “I cleaned, did odd jobs, led people to their seats as an usher. Somehow or other, they asked me to help with auditions, to read with people, lines and things. Before too long I was a background player, a soldier with one line, a servant who said nothing but ‘yes, my lord’ and was never seen again. It wasn’t as glamorous as Nino thinks it was, and all of it wasn’t a choice so much as a…how should I say it, a logical progression.”

Sho grinned. “I’d be a terrible actor.”

“Mao-chan says you’re very entertaining when you read to Keita.”

Mao hadn’t told Sho that she’d spoken to Matsumoto about their lessons, but he was at least glad she had positive things to say. “That’s different. That’s an audience of one.”

“I’m sure you’re very good.”

“Come sometime, won’t you? Come to a lesson.” Sho looked down. “I know I pester you about this often, but I don’t intend to stop.”

“Maybe I will. I could give you notes on your performance.”

Sho couldn’t look up, feeling warm at the thought of Matsumoto watching him so closely when he mostly wanted the man to come and spend time with his nephew for once. “You know where to find me most afternoons, sir.”

“You don’t…you don’t have to be so polite with me.”

“It wouldn’t be right if…”

“Sho-san.”

He looked up, seeing Matsumoto with his whiskey glass, a stray lock of hair falling across his forehead. He was handsome, at ease. But lonely.

“Sho-san, when we meet like this…I’d like it if you could just be yourself.”

“I’ll try.”

“If I keep you up drinking any later, you’ll hardly be able to teach. Don’t stay up on my account.”

For all that Sho hoped that they could speak for hours and hours, that he could learn more about him, Sho knew that Matsumoto…that Jun…was right.

He got up, tugging his jacket from the sofa and heading for the door. This time Jun didn’t get up to walk with him. “Thank you again.”

Jun raised his glass, and Sho departed.

—

Keita’s doctor had been rightly concerned about the boy’s drawings, but when they described how content he was when drawing, it was decided that Sho and Mao would just have to continue monitoring the situation and to get back in touch if Keita’s drawings started to change, if his innocent trains became scenes of ruin and pain.

Sho persevered with his alternative lessons either way, moving on to a unit about insects as he’d planned, spending more time on lessons than on giving Keita free drawing time. The boy didn’t protest as much as Sho had expected. Though Mao usually looked away when Sho opened books and showed Keita pictures, the boy was ecstatic. The more freakish the bug, the more Keita seemed to be fascinated by it. One day he even drew a train with carriages full of bugs, writing up in the corner that it was officially the “Insect Express.”

The Insect Express was popular throughout the house, the staff laughing hysterically at the creativity of their young lord. There was a cheerful little boy who’d been hidden for so long, and even though he was quiet, even though he suffered, little rays of sunshine were starting to peek through after months of cloudy skies.

A week into the insect lessons, Keita spoke.

Sho had his back to him, was drawing his best attempt at a grasshopper on the chalkboard. His art skills still left much to be desired, and for the first time, Keita informed him as much.

“Ugly!”

Sho froze, nearly snapping the chalk against the board in surprise. He turned around slowly, seeing Keita pointing at the board in disbelief.

“Sensei! That’s so ugly!”

“Keita!” Mao scolded, emerging from shock much faster than Sho even though the boy never got this loud unless he was screaming in pain. “Don’t say such things to Sho-sensei!”

Keita leaned back in his wheelchair, looking almost smug. “I am very sorry, Sensei. Your drawing is ugly. You are not ugly. It’s the drawing.”

Sho had to hold himself back from laughing gleefully at the sight of his naughty pupil. He was speaking. Full sentences!

Sho turned, looking back at his questionable grasshopper. “You’ve caught me, Keita-kun. Art was always my poorest subject in school. I’d have Ohno-san come in here and try to draw one for you, but unfortunately he is busy in the gardens today.”

Keita nodded. “It’s okay if you’re bad. You’re good at everything else, I think.”

“Well, thank you very much. If my drawing is offensive, perhaps we could move on to something that doesn’t require me to draw. I’ve got some math tables here for you, where we can use multiplication to determine how many ants are living in these different hills.”

“There’s probably thousands!” Keita cheered.

Mao shuddered beside him. “When will we have more lessons about dogs?”

Sho left that day’s lessons in high spirits. Keita had been a little quieter after calling out Sho’s poor drawing, but he’d gone through his math lessons with admirable speed, making very few errors in his calculations, mostly out of excitement when trying to determine how many ants resided in the hills that Sho had described to him.

Keita’s return to speech and his enthusiasm in doing so resulted in another call to the doctor, who was almost as thrilled as they all were. Apparently they hadn’t expected him to speak like that again for a few more months. Though there was no real improvement in Keita’s physical health, the doctor was eager with his mental progress, encouraging Sho and Mao to continue with any lessons that held Keita’s attention.

Unfortunately for Sho and Mao that meant more bugs, and it also meant more trains. Now that Keita was a bit chattier, he was more descriptive when drawing. “And this is the first class carriage,” he’d say, describing what he was doodling to Mao beside him. “And the first class luggage car. One time they put someone’s dog in here, I saw it myself. The dog had to stay in the luggage car for the trip, but the conductor said they were giving him treats for behaving.”

Keita had yet to mention the train crash, nor had he spoken of his parents in terms of the train. He simply kept drawing trains and engines, moreso when Sho found a rather dry set of encyclopedias that had colored illustrations, including detailed drawings of locomotives. Keita slowly became obsessed with the images in the encyclopedia, using thin paper to be able to trace over the pictures or doing his best to re-draw them by hand. Each picture was more detailed than the last.

Sho had made progress with Keita, and he finally decided it was time to force Jun’s hand in the matter. Back after a few days in Tokyo, Jun asked Sho up to his rooms once more for a drink. Sho spent the entire time arguing in favor of ordering a model train kit from a toy catalog Haru-san had picked up. One of the tables in the library could be given over to house it, Sho argued, so that Keita could play with it a bit. The table was a little taller than his work table, but they could mount the small control box within comfortable reach. Keita would at least have the ability to drive the train himself, and Sho or Mao could move anything else to help him play.

The kit came with a looping track, and more items could be added on to make things more lifelike. There could be trees and houses, station buildings, even tiny people to populate the station platforms or town. The one Sho had found was one of the smaller kits available, and it wouldn’t suck up too much electricity, especially if Keita only used it to play for a short time every day. Others in the catalog could be built to take up entire rooms of a house, but that was a bit much to start with.

Jun had readily agreed, making phone calls to Ninomiya himself to custom order items as a surprise for his nephew, paying entirely with his own money. As Sho had learned so far, Matsumoto Jun was very happy to shop, even though this gift wasn’t for himself. 

Within the week, boxes started arriving. Small boxes with pieces of track, with miniature figurines and motorcars and animals. Together he, Aiba, and Jun spent several hours one night transforming the library table into a small scale town. Jun directed them while Aiba set down track and Sho added decorations. He hadn’t seen Jun look so proud as he did when they were finished, shortly before midnight. 

The table was covered with a cloth when Mao wheeled Keita in for his lessons the following day. The boy had spent the morning coughing a little, and Mao suspected he had a cold coming on. Summer was finally transitioning to fall, and it was a little cooler in the house now. They’d have to keep a close eye on him as time went on.

Keita didn’t notice the covered table at first, diligently listening to a history lesson Sho gave about the warring states period. The knock at the door came right on time, and Keita jerked a little in his chair at the surprise.

“Yes? Who is it?”

“It’s Matsumoto Jun.”

“Ah,” Sho replied, stepping up to Keita’s work table. “Keita-kun, would it be alright if your uncle sat in on our lesson today? He’s been wanting to for a long time, but he’s been busy.” 

He didn’t like lying to the child, but it was better than the truth, that Jun had put this off for so long for whatever reason. 

Mao repeated the question a bit differently. “Your Uncle Jun told me that if you work together on this lesson that he has a surprise for you.”

Sho didn’t like bribery either, but he’d kept that opinion to himself. It had been Jun’s idea, and he’d been so surprised that he’d finally agreed to come that he hadn’t complained about his methods.

Keita merely nodded, and Sho could see the slightest apprehension in the boy’s face. Sho knew that Jun occasionally visited Keita in his room to say hello and chat with him (though Keita never really spoke back to him), always with Mao present, but he had never been in the library for a lesson before.

“Come in, Matsumoto-san.”

Jun entered quietly, murmuring a “pardon my intrusion” as he opened and shut the library door, walking slowly until he was standing at Sho’s side. He inclined his head. “Good afternoon, Keita. Are you enjoying your lessons today?”

Keita nodded.

“Do you enjoy Sho-sensei’s lessons?”

Keita nodded again, though Sho saw the boy’s grip tighten on his blankets. He hadn’t thrown a tantrum in the classroom yet, but it had just been him and Mao all this time, two people Keita knew to associate with his education. Jun was more of a stranger. Like having the principal come to observe your class at school.

“Do you mind if I join you? I’d like to learn more about this era myself.”

This time Keita didn’t do anything. He didn’t nod, but he didn’t shake his head either. Jun didn’t press the issue, making a big show of sitting on one of the other sofas, crossing one leg over the other comfortably. He had been too nervous to sit beside his own nephew, not wanting to scare him.

Once Keita seemed to accept Jun’s presence in the room, Sho continued with his lesson, complete with books that had illustrations of different battles. He handed one book to Keita and Mao, another to Jun asking them to have a look and to describe what they saw. Keita spoke little, at least less than he had been the last week or so, but he seemed interested in the armor of the soldiers, the horses they were riding in battle.

The lesson concluded, and Jun leaned forward, clearing his throat to get Keita’s attention. “Sho-sensei is a good teacher, isn’t he?”

“He’s bad at drawing, but yes, he is very good,” Keita admitted in his blunt fashion, earning a gentle giggle from Mao.

“I’ve seen many of your drawings, Keita, and I can safely say that you draw better than anyone in this house with maybe the exception of Ohno-kun,” Jun said, getting to his feet. “Do you like to draw?”

“Yes, sir. Very much.”

“Sho-sensei and Mao-san have shown me some of your best pictures. My favorite was the Insect Express.”

Keita’s wary expression changed quickly into a grin. “That is a masterpiece!”

Jun laughed. “It certainly is.” He headed over to the table, taking hold of the cloth. “Now I have a present for you that I hope you’ll like. I am hoping that you’ll be able to use it to come up with some more ideas for drawings, maybe ones even better than the Insect Express. Won’t you come over here?”

Sho moved the work table, and Mao got up, pushing Keita over to watch. Jun counted to three and then pulled the cloth away. He knocked over a few trees in the process, but otherwise everything looked perfect. Keita’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping open.

“A train!”

“Wow!” Mao said, “it’s like a whole town.”

She pushed him closer so he could slowly take in the various decorations. He pointed out different buildings and was especially in love with the train station near the control box, spying a small conductor figurine ready to send the train on its way.

“Now,” Jun said, leaning over to flick a switch on the control box. The box let out a gentle little hum, the whole set of track now powered by electricity via the plug they’d inserted into the wall outlet behind the table. “Now it can move.”

Mao pushed Keita’s chair so he could watch Jun operate the train first. He pushed the lever forward to move the train around its oval-shaped loop in a clockwise fashion. He showed Keita that the further the lever was forward, the faster the train would go. He then showed that bringing the lever back to the middle slowed it to a stop. Pulling the lever towards himself sent the train in reverse, moving counter-clockwise.

Keita was thrilled, watching as Jun put the train back into forward motion, letting it slowly circle around three times before bringing it back to the station and putting on “the brakes.”

“Should we let Mao-san drive the train next?”

“No!” Keita protested. “I want to be the driver! Please, Mao-san!”

Mao grinned behind him, not looking the least bit interested in playing with the model. “Oh, I suppose that’s alright, so long as everyone gets a turn.”

Keita’s chair was placed in position, Mao gently throwing the brake mechanism so he wouldn’t roll away while he was trying to play. For the first time in a long time, Mao took a step away, walking around to look at the rest of the model. She stood on the other side of the table, setting the trees that had fallen over back into an upright position.

Now Sho got to see Jun interact with his nephew for the first time. He crouched down so that he was at Keita’s eye level, watching as Keita reached out a hand for the lever. “Now remember, this whole thing is wired with electricity, so we can’t push it too hard or it might spark. The train should go at a normal speed, okay?”

“Okay,” Keita agreed. “If it sparks, it’ll be a fire?”

“Yeah, it could cause a fire.”

“Okay, I’ll keep it normal speed.”

With Jun’s help, Keita got into a comfortable position, pushing the lever. Slowly the train got moving, bypassing the station and the trio of houses that Sho had lined up the night before, adhering them to the green cloth they kept inside the oval of track to stand in as grass.

Keita was excited as the train moved along, clicking around the curve as the electricity kept the whole thing humming. Sho had never really been fascinated by trains, but the model was rather remarkable with all its component parts. He could see the appeal in the huge models that had been in the toy catalog, the room size monstrosities that had come with mountains and farmland and city buildings like department stores or police stations.

After watching the train make several loops, Keita grew a little impatient. “Go backwards now!” he cheered, and in a moment of forgetfulness, he tugged the lever hard, bypassing the stop setting in the middle and pulling it all the way down toward himself.

The abrupt motion kicked up a tiny spark on the tracks, nothing harmful, but the speed change was so abrupt that Jun lost his temper.

“I said not so fast, Keita!”

“Sorry!” 

“Jun-san,” Mao tried to interrupt, but Jun forcibly grabbed Keita’s hand, pushing the lever back to a safer speed. 

“If you push it too hard, it might jump off the tracks!” Jun said in exasperation, and Keita took his hand away from the control box almost as though it had burned him. It had been the worst thing to say, and Jun immediately knew it.

Jun abruptly brought the train to a stop, his face nothing but solid panic. Beside him, Keita’s eyes were filling with tears.

“Keita, I…I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell…”

“I don’t want it to to jump off!” Keita protested, and Mao met Sho’s eyes, gesturing with a quick tilt of her head for Sho to unplug the power. He did so quietly just as Keita let out a scream of pain. “I don’t want it to jump off! I just want it to go! I just want it to go! If it jumps off…if it jumps off…”

Jun backed away, nearly colliding with the table. “Keita, it’s okay. Keita, everything’s fine. I’m sorry for raising my voice…”

Keita let out another wordless scream, a noise Sho only knew from sitting in another room or in bed. It was loud in here, so loud it broke his heart. “I just want it to go!”

“Keita, let’s take a break and play with the train again later, okay?” Mao said in her gentle voice. “You can make it go later.”

With Keita writhing in his chair, the blankets started shuffling and he desperately clutched them so they wouldn’t fall. He screamed and cried, the happy boy vanishing in a moment. Sho hurried to the door, holding it open so Mao could push Keita away, her words of encouragement and calm lost as the boy continued to cry.

Aiba had come by in a panic, his shoes scuffing against the floor as he nearly collided with Sho. “What happened? What happened? Do I need to call the doctor?”

Sho patted him on the shoulder. “Just a misunderstanding. Just a misunderstanding with the train. Masaki, please…go check with Mao if you can. She might need some help to calm him down.”

“Of course.”

Aiba hurried off, and Sho closed the library door. It muffled Keita’s cries, but not entirely.

Jun was sitting on the floor next to the train table, legs bent and gripping his knees tightly. Sho crouched down beside him. “Are you alright?”

“I yelled at him.”

“You didn’t mean any harm.”

“I yelled at that poor kid,” Jun murmured, and Sho’s heart sank at the tears already brimming in his eyes. “I thought I could just waltz in here and give him a gift. I don’t know a fucking thing about how to handle him.”

“That’s not true,” Sho said, ignoring Jun’s coarse language. “When you were demonstrating the controls, he was fascinated. You should have seen how he looked at you. He was in awe of you.”

“He was in awe of the stupid train,” Jun snapped, pulling off his glasses roughly to wipe his eyes. “I’ve just set everything back, all your hard work, Sho-san. I can’t believe I said the train might derail. How could I be so stupid?”

Sho rested a hand on Jun’s shoulder. “You said jump the tracks, you never said derail, and we don’t know if he was upset about you saying that or about the yelling. When he calms down, you can apologize properly.”

“Jump the tracks and derail mean the same god damn thing, and a 10 year old knows it!” Jun batted his hand away, getting to his feet. He was looking at the control box like he wanted to fling it away. He was looking at the entire model like he wanted to tear it apart piece by piece. Sho had never seen Matsumoto Jun in such a rage, his entire body shaking, his hands curled up in fists, his chest rising and falling with quick, fearsome breaths.

“Jun-san,” Sho said, getting back up and trying to stay calm. “It was a mistake. That’s all.”

“It’s one I won’t make again,” he said with a finality that shook Sho to the core.

Sho was so surprised when Jun took off running that he was a few paces behind when he started to move. “Wait. Jun!”

He could only watch as Jun hurried up the stairs to the second floor. Sho waited in the hall, gently asking the maid dusting to go to another part of the house for a while. When Jun came back down the stairs, his eyes were bloodshot behind his glasses, and he was in a trenchcoat, towing along a small travel bag in one hand and tightly gripping his driving gloves in the other.

“Where are you going?” Sho asked him directly, walking behind him as he stomped childishly through the hall, the dining room, and off to the kitchen. The cook, already prepping soba noodles for dinner that Jun himself had requested, let out an alarmed “my lord?” The woman was so shocked she’d forgotten Jun hadn’t been one for some time.

By now Aiba had heard the commotion and was right behind them, brushing past Sho with a quick hand to his shoulder, chasing Jun out onto the gravel drive. “Jun-san!” Aiba called, “Mao-san needs to speak with you!”

Jun ignored him, turning his key in the garage door lock and yanking it up. Sho stood there, unable to find the words. Aiba, timid butler no more, blocked the exit as Jun unlocked his car.

“Jun-san, where are you going? When can we anticipate your return?”

The car roared to life, spluttering out a small puff of exhaust that forced Aiba to back off.

“Jun-san!” Aiba protested one last time. “Jun-san!”

But Jun paid him no mind, backing up onto the gravel drive and speeding away, leaving a trail of dust behind him.

Aiba turned back, raising his hands in frustration. Sho could only shake his head, wondering which of them had been more damaged by the happenings in the library - the nephew or his uncle.

—

Jun called Nino from Tokyo, telling him only that he would be “staying with friends” for a while. He hadn’t told Nino how long “a while” might be.

Keita recovered from the traumatic experience in the library within a few days, the cold he’d caught slowing him down a little, but Sho had brought crayons and drawing paper into Keita’s room, letting him have a little fun in his downtime. The boy had stopped speaking for two days, but when Sho came into his room asking Keita for his “expert advice,” showing him some of his own drawings of otters and frogs, Keita had found enough reason to speak then.

“Are your drawings really that bad?” Haru-san asked at the dinner table, and in an act of true betrayal, Mao passed all of Sho’s attempts around, earning a great deal of laughter. It was a welcome sound in the house after the events of the other day, after Jun had left so abruptly.

By the start of the second week of Jun’s absence, Keita was back in the classroom and also back at his model train. Taking the warnings he’d received into consideration, he sent the train around the track at a moderate speed. As a way to supplement his learning and the time he spent with his train, Sho asked Keita to write something on his own, whether it was a poem or a short story, making up something about the village where his train was riding. He had a lot of ideas and spent the next few days writing with enthusiasm, even when he was in bed resting after lessons. It seemed like he hadn’t been affected or traumatized by the idea of the model train derailing.

With Keita back in good spirits, he even asked after his uncle. He waited one day in the library for Mao to leave for a washroom break before asking Sho to come close so he could whisper.

“Did I make Uncle Jun leave?”

“No, it wasn’t your fault. I think your uncle was upset that he yelled at you. Upset with himself, you understand. He’s not a mean person, and he just lost his temper. I’m sure he feels very sorry,” Sho explained, wondering why Keita had come to him with the question and not Mao.

“I disobeyed him, even though what he said was smart. I didn’t want to make a fire with the train.”

“It was your first time, and you simply made a mistake, Keita. Now you play with the train all the time, and you’re very good with it. I think your Uncle Jun made a mistake too. You see, he’s not used to being around kids so maybe he sometimes has problems knowing how to talk to you. He yelled when he didn’t mean to.”

Keita eventually stopped whispering. “He talks about his car with me. He showed me pictures of it.”

Sho hid a smile, thinking of Jun and his obsession with that damn car. “That sounds fun.”

“He’s shy, like me,” Keita admitted. “He told me that. He said when he was a boy that he was really shy. So he tells me it’s okay if I’m shy, too. I like Uncle Jun. I wish he’d come say hi more often.”

Sho’s heart broke. All this time, Jun had let others take care of Keita, thinking everyone else - the doctor, Mao, Sho - would know better. But all this time, what Keita really wanted was to spend time with him. It wasn’t such a strange thing to want. And Sho was determined to help.

“I know he’s away from home for a while. He often has business in Tokyo. But when he comes home, would you like me to talk with him? Maybe he doesn’t realize that you want to see him.”

“Because he’s shy.”

“Yes, because he’s shy.”

When Sho told Mao about their conversation, she’d been completely shocked. Keita hardly ever spoke with her about Jun. “Perhaps it’s a conversation among men,” Mao wondered. “Do you think?”

“Whatever Keita’s reasons, we have to help.”

Mao’s smile was sad. “Sometimes I worry that he won’t come back. Jun-san.”

“I think he remembers his duties here. I suppose if he’s gone for more than two weeks it’s cause to worry, right?”

Mao nodded. “Perhaps he’ll call Ninomiya-san soon. He didn’t have the guts to call the house. He probably knows I’d yell at him.”

Sho chuckled. “That’s probably the reason entirely.”

Aiba had business in town with Ninomiya a few days later, and Sho decided to tag along. They had lunch together, the three of them, at a cozy udon place not far from Matsumoto Castle. Sho listened politely as Aiba and Ninomiya dominated the conversation.

The two were good friends, teasing one another in between serious comments about the house. Aiba had a number of projects he wanted to tackle before winter came, and he discussed each of them with Nino, explaining what they were and what they’d cost so Nino could sign off on each of them in a timely fashion.

As they wrapped up their meal, Aiba said that he wanted to take the car over to the repair shop to get a quick check on the brakes. They were starting to squeal a bit and he wanted an estimate on repairs. Nino interrupted Aiba’s long rambling explanation about the problem, holding up a hand.

“Sho-san doesn’t have to go with for that. You can come pick him up. I wanted to chat with him about some invoices I had related to Keita’s lessons.”

“Oh. Okay then. I’ll come back when I’m done.”

Sho waited until Aiba was gone before speaking. “What invoices?”

Nino shook his head. “I lied. I just wanted to chat, see how things were going.”

He was confused. Why hadn’t he felt comfortable saying so with Aiba around? “What kind of things? About Keita’s lessons?”

Nino sighed, sipping his tea. “J hasn’t called.”

“So you told us.”

“Aren’t you worried about him?”

“Of course I’m worried,” Sho protested. “Keita certainly has no grudge against him after what happened, so I don’t know why he feels the need to stay away so long.”

“Do you like Jun?”

“He’s a fair employer. My salary is more than adequate and my room and board…”

“Let me rephrase,” Nino interrupted him. “Do you _like_ Jun?”

Sho blinked. He hadn’t rephrased a thing. “I think he’s being rather selfish right now, if you were waiting to get Aiba out of the room so you could get my honest opinion about his conduct of late.”

Nino smirked. “Never mind.”

“Never mind what?”

Nino shook his head. “Forgive me, Chalkboard-san, I misread the air. Let’s talk more about Jun-kun being a selfish twit…”

“Misread what air? What on earth are you going on about?”

For the first time, Ninomiya actually looked embarrassed about something he’d said. “Don’t get mad at me, but I thought maybe you were attracted to Jun-kun.”

Sho’s eyes widened. Ninomiya had only met him one other time in person. Every other interaction had come over the telephone. How the hell could he know? “I…I don’t know how to answer that.”

Nino lifted the tea cup. “A man who only liked the company of women would have probably thrown the contents of this cup in my face for making such an accusation.”

Sho frowned. “I’m not the type of person to behave in such a coarse manner. And you just said ‘don’t get mad’ at you.”

His companion gave him a strange look. “Deny it. Deny it already.”

Sho sat back in his seat, knowing he couldn’t deny it at all. “You’ll tell him?” His heart was beating faster, panic setting in. “You’ll tell him that? At least let me resign my position first…”

Nino leaned forward, resting his fingers around Sho’s wrist. “Sho-san, Sho-san, relax. Relax, I’m not blackmailing you. And I’m not going to broadcast it.”

Sho was mortified, slumping in the chair a little. “It’s shameful.”

“No, it’s not. I may not be so inclined, but it’s not shameful at all. Don’t think that way,” Nino chided him quietly.

“Very easy for you to say,” Sho pointed out. He lowered his voice. “Any romantic feelings you have for another person aren’t considered immoral. Distasteful. Disgusting. If it was discovered about me, Jun would never let me near Keita again, even though I would never, could never…”

“Sho-san, you need to know something.”

He pulled his hand back, annoyed at the way the conversation was going. “Oh yes, you’re a lawyer, surely you have something to tell me to keep me from being released from my position. Some legal advice?”

“Sho-san,” Nino said quietly, “Jun was disowned for it. For being…”

“Being?”

“Must I really spell it out? I only know of it because my father had to negotiate with the boarding school. Taro-san paid them a great deal of money as compensation for their silence. He was caught with one of his classmates. At school. And when Taro-san tried to give him an out, to say that the other boy forced him against his will, Jun wouldn’t agree to it. He’s stubborn, as you surely know by now.”

Sho was frozen in place, letting Ninomiya’s words sink in. Jun was like him? Jun had the same attractions? Impossible…

“He finished school by correspondence, and even that just barely because Taro-san couldn’t stand the sight of him in his house any longer. Jun’s mother passed away giving birth to him, and the man had this coldness toward him that I always thought was unfair. And then that happened, the incident at the school, and looking back, I think it was just an excuse to finally be rid of him.”

Sho’s mother knew about him, and while she didn’t necessarily approve, she loved him just the same. His father, well, he could never tell his father the truth, but once he’d become a tutor, traveling from city to city and never settling down, his father didn’t seem too worried about Sho remaining a bachelor. Sho couldn’t imagine his parents completely disowning him for feelings he knew he couldn’t control, no matter how desperately he tried.

Another facet of Jun, sliding into place. Another secret, another mystery gone and told to Sho by Ninomiya rather than by Jun on his own terms. Barely finishing his high school education, disowned by his own father for behavior that people liked to call “indecent” or “deviant.” Sho felt for him, ached for him. That Jun’s brother must have known, however, and still maintained some contact with him had probably kept Jun from running away entirely. 

Sho had a newfound respect for Matsumoto Atsushi. It explained why so many staff had been replaced after Taro-san had passed away. He’d wanted to start fresh, with people who didn’t know about his brother’s scandal. Was it self-preservation or was it a first step at reconciliation? Sho would never know, but with Jun named as Keita’s guardian, he felt it was likely the latter.

“He’s spoken about you to me,” Nino admitted gently. “Nothing serious, but when he called to say he’d be in Tokyo, he asked me to ensure you had anything you needed for Keita’s instruction. Anything you needed.”

“That doesn’t mean…”

“He only spoke to me about you. He said nothing about Keita or his doctors. Nothing about Aiba or Ohno-kun and his hedges or Haru-san and the house. He only asked me to make sure you were treated well.”

“He was in a hurry. He wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Are you afraid of him feeling the same as you?”

Sho shook his head. “He’s my employer. He pays my wages.”

“I pay your wages,” Nino teased. “He set the amount, I ensure you get it.”

“You know what I mean,” Sho said angrily. “This isn’t a joking matter.”

“Is it so wrong for me to wish happiness for him, after everything he’s endured? Especially happiness with someone attainable? Someone within his reach who respects him, cares for him? Someone who respected and cared for him even before he found out the truth?”

Sho frowned, getting to his feet. He’d wait for Aiba outside. “I can’t care for someone who refuses to be here. Please excuse me, Ninomiya-san. It was nice to see you again.”

“Be well, Sho-san,” Nino said, bowing his head.

Sho headed outside, feeling guilty for running from the conversation. It was a lot to take in. Too much to take in. He could maintain his odd sort of status quo so long as Jun was in Tokyo, living that second and likely better life of his. The life where he didn’t have to worry about Keita or about Pinetree Manor. The life Sakurai Sho could never and would never be a part of.

But what would he do when Jun returned?


	4. Chapter 4

He was playing cards with Aiba and Ohno, and it was a struggle to keep his eyes open. One last round, Aiba kept insisting each time he lost. Just one last round. 

Ohno was about to set down his cards and give up when the telephone in the kitchen started to ring. Despite being tired, Aiba popped out of his seat like a coiled spring, rushing to the device where it was attached to the wall, managing to silence the noise just as it rang a second time. It was almost midnight. Who in their right mind would telephone now? Even Jun tended to keep things quiet when he arrived home late.

“Pinetree Manor,” Aiba answered in hushed tones, sounding more polite than he probably wanted to be as he spoke into the device. Suddenly his fingers tightened around the earphone. “Nino?”

Sho and Ohno perked up, setting their cards down and trying to listen in. They watched Aiba run through a wide range of emotions. Shock, confusion, and then his face became serious. 

“What time are you bringing him? Can he make it up the stairs?”

“Jun-san?” Ohno mouthed, blinking his sleepy eyes, and Sho nodded, though he thought it was rather obvious that Nino was calling about Jun. Fear grabbed hold of Sho tightly, making goosebumps rise on his skin. What the hell had happened?

“You’re sure?” Aiba asked. “It’s no trouble to bring things down to the study…I see. I see. Awake? Sho-san and Oh-chan and me, we’re playing cards. I see. Okay sure. Just pull up to the front, it’ll be easier to get him inside from there so he doesn’t have to go through the kitchen and the…yeah, in the front. I’ll park the damn car in the garage once we get him in here. Okay. Alright, drive carefully. Okay. Okay, soon then.”

Aiba hung up, turning to look at each of them with a frown. “Apparently Jun-san was hurt in Tokyo. He’s going to be okay, Nino said, but he’s sprained his ankle rather badly so he couldn’t drive home. Nino took a train into Tokyo last night, and he’s driving Jun here in the convertible. They’ve been driving most of the day, he said, and he was calling me from a pay telephone in town, that they’re on their way here. Nino will stay over, so Oh-chan, I’m sorry, but could Haru-chan possibly…?”

Ohno nodded easily, getting to his feet and cracking his neck a little. “I’ll help her so we don’t have to wake the other girls. We’ll put him in the bigger guest room, he’ll want to brag to his friends later.”

Aiba tried not to smile as Ohno headed off to wake his wife. Sho looked at Aiba expectantly.

“Did Nino say how he got hurt?”

Aiba shook his head. “No, he didn’t. Nino and I will get him up to the master suite. I hate to say this, but perhaps it’s best if you went to your room. The more people fussing over Jun-san, the more likely it’ll cause a stir in the house. He is probably embarrassed enough about having to call Nino all the way to Tokyo to help him.”

“Nino’s been driving all day, are you sure…”

“Sho-kun,” Aiba insisted. “This is a matter for the staff. And I can handle it.”

A bit stunned by Aiba’s forceful tone, Sho wondered just how injured Jun was. He clearly hadn’t broken anything or caused himself serious harm if he’d be able to get up the stairs with only Nino and Aiba to help him. 

It hadn’t been an auto accident, or Nino would have never been able to make the drive from Tokyo to Nagano in Jun’s car. Jun’s reckless driving hadn’t gotten him killed yet, and Sho shuddered at the thought. What had happened? He could only pray that Jun’s anger and obvious self-loathing after the incident with Keita hadn’t pushed him off the edge. He didn’t want to imagine Jun putting himself in harm’s way on purpose. Maybe it was just a bad accident, a circumstance beyond Jun’s control.

As concerned as he was for Jun, as desperate as he was to see him and hear him say he was fine, Sho reluctantly headed up to his rooms alone, changing for bed. He paced for a while, amazed by how quiet the house could be sometimes. Even though Ohno and Haru had been preparing the guest room for Nino across the hall, he hadn’t heard a sound from them. 

Eventually, Sho gave up on listening at the door like some creep. Jun was alive, and Jun would be fine, and that ought to be enough. And if he was injured, Sho thought rather selfishly, he couldn’t quite run away from the other problems in his life. Namely Keita.

He was tossing and turning in bed a short time later, unable to find a comfortable position in his worry. He heard whispers outside his door, a creaking floorboard, and then the sound of the door opening at the end of the hall.

Whether he wanted to be or not, Jun was home again.

It was the talk of the kitchen table come morning, even though Aiba was too polite and proper to offer an eyewitness account. The maids and footmen, confident since they knew the master of the house was not perched at death’s door, tried to trick Aiba into offering other details. “Will he be able to drive again?” “He has such a handsome face…he didn’t hurt his face, did he, Aiba-kun?”

Aiba said nothing, only that Jun had asked for privacy. Aiba alone would bring up Jun’s meal trays for the time being, would run a bath for him. Haru-san seemed a little annoyed that cleaning the master’s suite would be delayed until Jun felt like having visitors again, but otherwise the discussion was closed.

Sho proceeded with his lessons for the next few days. Keita had been told that Jun had returned, but that he’d been hurt and was staying in his room until he felt better. Mao didn’t see any reason to lie to the child, and Sho agreed. On the fourth day, Keita had a proposal after doing some math problems.

“Can we make a card for Uncle Jun? A get well card?”

Mao nodded. “Of course we can. So long as Sho-sensei is not put in charge of the drawings on the front of the card.”

Sho pretended to be offended, putting his hands on his hips and seeing Keita crack up. “Why can’t I do it? I want him to get well too!”

“I don’t know, Sensei,” Keita teased him, “if he sees what you draw he might feel worse!”

They all had a good laugh together about that, and Sho was growing used to being the butt of jokes in the classroom, at least jokes about his artistic talents (or lack thereof). 

Keita was eager to get started on the card, and he spent an hour alone just drawing a picture of a car similar to Jun’s with a little help from one of the photographs Jun had given him. When Keita drew his uncle standing next to the car just like he was in the picture, Keita chose to draw a smile on his face rather than the ‘too cool to look happy’ face Jun was actually making.

Mao offered her own teasing tips, telling Keita to perhaps make Jun’s eyebrows a little thicker. “He’ll know that was your idea,” Sho pointed out, and Mao only winked at him.

When the card was complete, the three of them signed it, and then Keita thought it would be better if everyone did. Holding the card in his hands, Mao wheeled him through the house, making sure every member of the Pinetree Manor staff added their signature and best wishes.

They found Aiba last, Keita holding the card and the pencil out. “Aiba-san, will you please sign this for Uncle Jun?”

The butler paused, midway through polishing some candlesticks in the dining room, though nobody had eaten in the room for more than two weeks now. He took the card promptly, nodding at the sight of it. “Did you draw this yourself, Keita-kun?”

“I did. Do you think he’ll like it?”

“He certainly will,” Aiba replied, adding his signature to one of the few available spots remaining.

“I was going to deliver it personally this evening,” Sho interrupted, resting a hand on the top of Keita’s wheelchair. “On Keita’s behalf.”

Aiba closed the card, and Sho could see him mask his irritation as quickly as he could, since Keita was in the room. Jun still didn’t want visitors, but after four days, Sho thought it was ridiculous that he’d had no message or apology for his nephew now that he was home. It was a weak excuse, using the kind intentions of Keita’s card as a way to confront him, but Sho didn’t much care. Let Aiba be miffed for a little while at Sho for disobeying, for being rude. If Jun got angry, Sho would take the blame.

“Very well,” Aiba said before plastering on a smile again and handing the card and pencil back. “It really is a nice design. I’m sure your uncle misses his car since he’s been hurt, and this should cheer him right up.”

Keita beamed from ear to ear. “Thank you, Aiba-san!”

Mao patted Keita’s shoulder. “You should probably rest now. Let’s have Sho-san deliver it tonight.”

Keita handed the card over, and Sho took it. When Mao turned the wheelchair, pushing it away, Aiba gave Sho a dirty look but said nothing, moving back to his cleaning duties. 

—

Aiba wasn’t the type to hold a grudge for long, but his loyalty to Jun was stronger than any friendly feelings he had for Sho. He returned with the empty dinner tray later that evening, finding Sho in the kitchen losing another round of cards.

“Sho-san, a moment?”

Sho set his down, raising his hands in surrender and letting the footmen battle out the rest of the game. “Gentlemen, it’s been fun.”

He followed Aiba into the dining room. “I told him you were going to stop by. At least so you don’t surprise him.”

Sho grinned. “I’m not going to barge in there, you know. I was going to knock.”

“And if he told you to go away even if you knocked?”

He said nothing, earning a dismissive nod from Aiba.

“That’s how he thought you’d react,” Aiba grumbled. “Go on then.”

Sho headed upstairs, taking Keita’s card from his desk and moving to the end of the hall and the master’s suite where he knocked very properly.

“If you must,” came Jun’s irritated voice from inside.

He opened the door and closed it behind him, finding the sitting room empty. For the first time, Sho ventured a little further inside, torn between irritation and anxiety. Irritation with Jun for his behavior, anxiety about his feelings for him despite that. Ever since that day in the restaurant, thinking about what Ninomiya had said and what he’d implied…Sho wasn’t quite sure what to think about Jun anymore. Aside from desperately wanting to see him again.

Despite a few days of indolence, his bedroom was still fairly tidy. He found Jun sitting upright in bed, pillows behind his back as he set aside a motoring magazine he’d been reading. He was currently on top of his blankets, dressed in a rather indulgent set of purple silk pajamas, barefoot. Most of his right foot and ankle were tightly bandaged, a pair of crutches leaned against the nightstand beside the bed in case he had to get up.

In addition to the sprained ankle Sho had heard about, Jun’s hands had also been cut up, his left hand mostly wrapped while there were two splints indicating broken or badly sprained fingers on his right and dominant hand. No wonder he hadn’t been able to drive.

“Aiba-kun said you were hellbent on disturbing me,” Jun said, not looking as annoyed as Sho thought he would be.

Sho brought Keita’s card out from behind his back, walking up to Jun’s bed and holding it out. Jun took it with his wrapped-up left hand, examining the drawing on the front. He pointed to the picture of himself standing beside the car. “That’s rude, you know,” Jun whined. “My eyebrows aren’t that…they’re just not.”

“Mao-san would never have instructed him to draw them that way,” Sho said innocently, clasping his hands behind his back and trying to keep calm even with Jun so close.

“Grab that chair. I don’t like you hovering like that.”

Sho nodded, moving to the corner and pulling the chair from Jun’s desk over. He had a seat, trying to keep his leg from shaking. Jun continued to look at Keita’s drawing, the enormous message of “Uncle Jun! Feel better!” written across the top. He opened the card, and Sho thought there was genuine surprise in Jun’s face when he saw that everyone, not just Keita, had signed it. Did he think nobody else in the house gave a damn about him? He was their employer, sure, but nobody wished him ill. Despite his frequent absences, they respected Jun and wished for his happiness.

“It was Keita’s idea from start to finish.”

“How is he?”

Sho was astonished that Jun could ask that so simply after driving away in a flash, running off to Tokyo instead of staying behind to apologize to Keita for his poor conduct.

“Doing very well. We spend almost three hours every day with lessons and then he has free time to draw or play with the train.”

Jun set the card down on his lap, looking at Sho curiously. “You let him play with it?”

“Of course,” Sho replied, hoping he didn’t sound as condescending as he felt like being. “He’s quite good with it now, keeping it steady, adjusting the speed.”

“I see.”

“Not sure how much Aiba has told you, but it only took him a few days to come around again. He’s a resilient boy, and once we chatted a bit more about his responsibilities, he’s been very eager to play with the train. He’s even coming up with a story about it, about the conductor who works at the imaginary station in the model. He’s creative in so many ways, Matsumoto-san. You should be very proud of him.”

“It would be easier if you simply yelled at me, Sho-san.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Jun’s eyes were weary, and Sho wondered if he was taking any medication to manage his pain. There were no bottles within arm’s reach on his nightstand.

“You expect a lot from me, and I envy you for it.”

“Envy? What?”

He chuckled bitterly. “It was always hard to measure up in this house. My brother was ten years older than me. Smart and a good student, a hard worker, never temperamental. Father adored him. But I wasn’t much more than the aberration that killed his wife. No matter what I did, I could never be my brother. Eventually I stopped trying altogether. I honestly don’t know what was going through Atsushi’s head when he thought I’d be more suitable as Keita’s guardian than Natsuko’s family.”

Sho couldn’t imagine such a life, being ignored and disliked by your own parent. Though Matsumoto Jun was a grown man, it was clear that the scars of his childhood remained to this day.

“You shouldn’t speak like that. Just because your father felt that way doesn’t mean it’s the truth.”

“Sho-san, there’s nobody else I can speak to like this,” Jun admitted, laughing again. “Come now, I’m injured. Won’t you allow me my self-pity for just a little while longer?”

“I’d rather you make a firm commitment to honoring the task your brother left you.”

Jun raised an eyebrow, amused, so Sho continued.

“You may not believe it, since it seems you’ve devoted considerable time to doubting yourself and what you can do and what value you have, but Keita cares about you. He was worried about you after that day, worried that he had upset you and driven you away when all he really wants is for you to be a part of his life. Go to him, meet with him. Come to lessons. Be present for him.”

“I believe, Sensei, that I hired you to be Keita’s instructor, not mine.”

“I _am_ speaking as Keita’s instructor, and what my student needs is family. Not just a nurse, not just a house full of staff, not just someone to teach him his multiplication tables, but family.”

“I’m not good with children.”

“Keita isn’t children. Keita is simply Keita. A smart boy who is stuck here in this house with only his wondrous imagination and the staff that his absent uncle has hired for him. Several weeks ago, he didn’t even speak. Now he does. He’s been through something unimaginable, but look at how he’s grown. Think of what more he could do if he had family cheering him on. Not just the man who hires people to help, but the man who sits by his side, encouraging him every day. His mother and father, well, I can’t speak to how they treated him, but I know that boy needs and wants you near him. Don’t let one rotten experience color your whole perspective.” Sho met his eyes. “Don’t run from him again. Please.”

The room was quiet for a few moments, the air heavy. Jun looked at the card again, turning it over in his injured hands.

“You’re right. You and I both know you’re right. My god, every little chat we have, you find some way to have the more compelling argument.” Jun smiled gently, looking down. “I can’t promise every day. You know I can’t.”

“Will you come tomorrow?”

“Aggressive, aren’t you?”

Sho felt his face grow hot. “You’ve made it clear that I should be myself around you, at least when it’s just the two of us talking. And I will always advocate in favor of my students.”

“What’s the lesson tomorrow?”

“Weather permitting, we were going to sit in the garden. Ohno-kun has put together a little wooden ramp so we can push the wheelchair outside. We’re having a geography lesson, and being able to see the mountains instead of being stuck inside will change up Keita’s routine a bit.”

“I’ll try harder,” Jun vowed. “There are many things I give all my effort to, but I’ll admit that when it comes to Keita I’ve…I’ve been utterly remiss.”

“Better late than never.”

“I at least have to drop in to thank him for the card.”

“It would be the polite thing to do. From one man to another.”

Jun grinned. “I won’t even yell at him for the eyebrow exaggeration.”

“Magnanimous.”

Jun set the card on the nightstand, began shifting as best he could to get under his blankets. He would probably be too proud to ask for Sho’s help, so he didn’t offer.

“Sho-san, I was right to hire you.”

He got to his feet, nearly dropping the chair in his nervousness as he carried it back. “It’s a joy to teach him.”

“Good night, Sensei.”

“Good night.”

Sho was almost to the sitting room when Jun called out to him.

“You aren’t even going to ask what happened to me?”

He turned around, seeing Jun gingerly settling his glasses on the nightstand with the uninjured fingers available to him, his expression unreadable. Sho licked his lips, his heart pounding. He’d wanted to know for days what had happened. But he’d pushed Jun hard tonight, urging him to be more present for Keita. He’d been intrusive enough.

“If you ever wish to confide in me, I’ll listen. About anything at all.” He rested his palm on the archway between rooms. “You aren’t without friends here, Matsumoto-san.”

He couldn’t tell if Jun was blushing, but his voice was nervous.

“I’ll remember that.”

—

With a warm coat and thicker blankets, taking Keita out to the garden for lessons was a success. Keita’s chair could manage the dirt paths that led through the shrubs and bushes that Ohno tended with care, and there was a patio and a table outside where they could have lessons. They stayed outside for only half an hour to start and over the next few days, once Keita was used to it, they stayed a little longer.

Jun came the first day on his crutches, thanking Keita personally for the card he’d made. He’d then sat at the table, watching with an amused look as Sho gave a short lesson about Japan’s mountains.

He came almost every day for a week, even though it probably wasn’t that easy to maneuver around with his injured ankle and bandaged hands. Jun even started to participate, raising his hand and shouting things like “I know the answer! I know it, pick me!” as a way of getting Keita to compete with him a little, to offer his own answers instead of shyly waiting for Sho to prod some sort of response from him.

Sho liked seeing how the amount of interaction between uncle and nephew increased as the days went by. Most days now Jun followed Mao back into the house when she pushed Keita inside, heading into Keita’s room to continue talking. Sho didn’t want to believe that this change was entirely his doing, but it really was wonderful to see Jun finally take a more active interest in Keita’s studies and hobbies alike. And for Keita, he finally got to spend time with the person who’d been charged with caring for him, protecting him. They were awkward strangers no more.

On a rainy day the following week, they all stayed inside. Jun was finally able to ditch his crutches, relying instead on an old but elegant walking stick that one of the footmen had found in the attic, part of the Matsumoto family’s junk that nobody had ever felt like throwing out. The bandaging on his left hand was gone, several small but healing cuts dotting his skin. His broken fingers on his right hand would take a few more weeks to heal, but he was well on his way back to his old self.

As the rain pelted the windows, Keita did a reading from his now-completed tale about the conductor in the village of the model train. The adults sat politely while Keita read eagerly from his handwritten pages. They all learned that the conductor was named Morimoto-san, that he and his wife had fourteen children, and that his favorite food was fried rice with pork. And of course, Morimoto-san had a loyal dog, a terrier named Niji.

Keita was just finishing up when there was a knock at the door. It was Ninomiya, inclining his head in apology for interrupting. He greeted Keita with a wave and a friendly smile, and Keita waved hello in reply. Nino gestured in Jun’s direction. “I’m sorry to interrupt school, but Jun-san and I have a meeting today.”

Nino had come to the house a few times since the injured Jun had returned, letting Aiba pick him up so he could come meet Jun without having to make him leave the estate. Where Sho expected Jun to get up and leave for their meeting, instead he waved Nino over to the sofa.

“Keita’s almost done with his story. Let’s let him finish first.”

Nino agreed, and Sho had to hide a smile at the look of sheer happiness that crossed Keita’s face when he realized that Jun was putting him first. He read through the last page of his story with such enthusiasm that Mao had to turn away, hiding a tear or two from the men on the sofa. How far he’d come, Sho thought happily.

When Keita was finished, they applauded for him, and Sho allowed Keita some free drawing time. Jun and Nino headed off for the study while Mao took Sho aside.

“I think Jun-san can finally see what a difference he’s making,” Mao said, watching over Keita fondly as he traced some bugs from one of the encyclopedia volumes. 

“It won’t last forever,” Sho admitted. “At some point he’ll have business to attend to in Tokyo. I think as soon as he’s able to drive again that he’ll go. But this time I think…I don’t know, I just think he’ll act differently.”

“You mean he’ll actually tell us when he’s returning?”

“That would be a revelation, wouldn’t it?” Sho teased, hearing Mao’s gentle chuckle.

Nino and Jun’s meeting carried on into the evening, the two of them continuing to work on estate business through dinner, which they shared in the dining room. They were still in there when Sho was heading for his room, ready to have a bath and relax for the evening.

“Sho-san,” Jun called out as he walked by, and he halted in his tracks, peering into the dining room to see that Nino was packing up his briefcase.

“Ah, did you have any questions for me?” Sho asked, poking his head in and gesturing to the papers Nino was putting in his case. “Aiba drove me into town the other day so I could get some new crayons and drawing paper. I gave Aiba the receipts.”

“Got them, thanks,” Nino said.

Jun waved him over. “Come here.”

He walked up to the table nervously, seeing a slight twinkle in Nino’s eyes as he came closer to Jun. Sho hoped he hadn’t said anything to Jun. It had been a long ride in the car from Tokyo, after all.

“I had a proposal and I was running it by Nino,” Jun explained. “It’s Keita’s birthday in a few weeks, and I was thinking we could turn his story into a proper book. The one about the conductor. We could have a professional illustrator do some artwork, have the whole thing typeset and printed up.” There was a nervous look in Jun’s eyes, as though he feared Sho would find his idea stupid. “Do you think Keita would like something like that? I thought we could take some photographs of the model in the library to help the illustrator with the little details, and then you still have the story that he wrote. I thought perhaps you could rewrite it, just so it’s easier for them to read at the printer’s than a child’s handwriting?”

Sho couldn’t keep from smiling. “A keepsake he could treasure. I’ll help any way I can.”

Jun looked away with a dismissive, embarrassed wave of his hand. “It was just an idea…”

“A good one,” Sho said honestly, and he saw Nino turn away, rolling his eyes when Jun’s ears turned pink in response.

“Well, that’s settled. When the two of you have everything ready, I’ll coordinate with a publisher. I have some contacts at the local newspaper who know people in the book sphere. It will be no trouble at all,” Nino said, rising to his feet. Jun moved to grab his walking stick, but Nino waved him off. “Oh, don’t trouble yourself, J. Aiba-kun will get me back to town. I’ll telephone you tomorrow.”

Soon enough Nino left them alone, and Jun leaned back in his seat.

“You really think it’s a good idea? You don’t think he’ll be mad that someone else did the artwork?”

“I think seeing something he wrote turned into something so professional will impress him. It’s a terrific idea, Jun, truly.”

Jun’s eyes widened, and Sho realized the error he’d just made. He took a step back, breathing unsteadily. He’d called him only by his name. Who the hell did he think he was? He inclined his head.

“I’m sorry, Jun-san, for speaking to you so improperly.”

Jun shook his head. “It’s alright…I…” Sho looked up, spied Jun getting out of the chair, steadying himself with a hand on the dining room table. “I…I don’t have a problem with…”

Aiba called into the room, and they both jolted in surprise. “I’m driving Ninomiya-san back to town!”

“Very good,” Jun replied, voice straining. He turned back to Sho. “Let’s go to the library, figure out what we’ll need pictures of.”

Sho followed him obediently, feeling ashamed of how casually he’d spoken. Even if Jun had asked him not to be too formal with him, there was no excuse for addressing him that way.

Jun’s walking stick tapped out a steady rhythm as he moved to the library, opening the door and turning on one of the table lamps. Sho followed him inside, shutting the door so they wouldn’t disturb Keita who was already in bed.

“I’ll take notes,” Sho decided, busying himself by his trunk of teaching supplies, finding a pencil and a small notepad. Jun was already at the model train, running his fingers along the smooth metal track. 

Sho approached, flipping open the notepad to a blank page. He started babbling, still embarrassed. At least there was a task at hand to concentrate on. “We’ve got the little conductor figurine, we’ll definitely need pictures of him so the illustrator knows what the uniform looks like. I can’t wait to see what could be done about Morimoto-san’s fourteen children. Can you even imagine that, having to provide for fourteen…”

Before he could take a breath, Jun was turning, reaching for the lapel of Sho’s tweed jacket and tugging him forward. He dropped his pencil on the table, hearing it roll away and onto the floor once Jun kissed him.

It was soft, an exploring brush of Jun’s mouth against his own. Sho didn’t react at first, wondering if he was imagining things. Jun pulled away, but only to slip off his glasses, set them down on the table. This time when he reached for Sho, he slipped his hand around the back of Sho’s neck, pulling him closer. And this time Sho knew it was coming, tilting his head to meet Jun properly.

Panic. Panic was probably the first thing he felt. What were they doing? Well, he certainly knew what they were doing…but why here? Why now? And anyone might come by and…

“Well then,” Jun whispered, shyly kissing the corner of his mouth in hesitation. “Have I assumed too much?”

“It’s more the location that troubles me,” he admitted quietly, body tingling from head to toe from a simple kiss. Then again, it had been quite some time since anyone had kissed him and even longer since anyone had been so surprising and forceful about it. “If we were discovered in here…”

Jun’s fingers stroked along the back of his neck. “You haven’t slugged me yet.”

“I have no wish to do so,” he mumbled, shutting his eyes and exhaling nervously.

“I kissed you,” Jun said, his voice wickedly warm. “Most men would take offense.”

“We have similar inclinations.” He gasped sharply when Jun started to kiss along his jaw, slow but possessive. “That being said, I never really believed you would feel the same as I do.”

“And how _do_ you feel, Sho-san?” Jun inquired, following his question by setting his walking stick on top of the model table, holding onto Sho for leverage as he balanced his weight on his uninjured leg. 

This time Sho kissed him first, putting everything he had and everything he felt into the press of his lips against Jun’s. When Jun’s fingers moved upward, sliding through his hair to touch and explore, he slipped his own hand behind Jun’s back, amazed by the firm heat of his body through his cotton dress shirt. Pulling Jun a little closer but not enough to put him off balance, Sho deepened their kiss, slipping his tongue in Jun’s mouth and receiving a pleased little hum in return.

It was dangerous what they were doing, behaving so improperly in a room that any staff member might enter at any moment. But the fear of that, the thrill of possibly having to break apart in a hurry, only seemed to make them more daring. Now that they’d gotten started, Sho wondered how they’d manage to stop.

Jun didn’t seem to mind Sho’s clumsiness, returning his somewhat sloppy and reckless kisses with little tugs at his hair, soft murmurs of enjoyment. How long had Jun wanted to kiss him? Sho wondered if it was as long as his own wait had been. 

Jun finally leaned back, hand slipping down to rest on Sho’s shoulder. His face was flushed and eager, as though his body hadn’t quite caught up with his mind. “I suppose…I suppose we really ought to figure out those pictures.”

Sho stepped back, already missing the closer connection. “Beyond that, what are we going to do?”

“About?”

Sho rolled his eyes. “This.”

He could see a hunger in Jun’s eyes. His father had disowned him, kicked him out of this very same house, thinking him a deviant. But here he was in a library full of books the man had bought to appear more educated than he was. Here he was in that man’s house kissing another man without shame. Was Jun only acting to spite his dead father, kissing Sho because he’d somehow figured out that the overture wouldn’t be rejected instantly? 

Or did it actually mean something?

“Are you in the right frame of mind for a serious conversation like that?” Jun asked him with a quiet little laugh. He lifted his uninjured fingers, stroking along Sho’s face, almost as though he couldn’t believe what they’d just done despite initiating it. “Because I’m certainly not.”

“Shall we forget it happened?” Sho mumbled.

Jun’s fingers slid down beneath his chin, forcing Sho to look him in the eye. “I don’t plan to. I’m rather happy that you didn’t punch me, so that made it all the more worth it, knowing you wanted it just as badly as I did.” Jun’s thumb was brushing along Sho’s lip now, teasing. “And you _did_ want it badly.”

He nodded, taking the walking stick from the table and holding it out. Jun sighed in disappointment, accepting it so that Sho could step back further, stopping before they did anything else that might get them caught.

“You’re my employer.”

“I know.”

“It’s inappropriate.”

Jun nodded. “I know that, too.”

Sho crossed his arms, unsure of what to do. There was no going back to how things had been before. That was utterly impossible. Was it out of line, what he and Jun had just done? Yes, absolutely. And still he wanted to kiss Jun again. But without shame and without fear.

“You’re right,” Sho admitted. “I wanted it. Still want it, perhaps I always will.”

“How romantic,” Jun teased him, putting his glasses back on and hobbling to the other end of the table, picking up one of the small trees from the model and twisting it between his fingers.

“And perhaps it’s more damaging to keep those feelings bottled up than to let them out. Inappropriate or no.” He cleared his throat, met Jun’s gaze with firm resolve. “So don’t kiss me in here.”

Jun struggled not to laugh. “What?”

“This is my classroom, this is where Keita is taught. I won’t do anything in this room or in any rooms that are open to the staff. I will not compromise my professional time with personal matters. If we…if we see a need to…”

Jun put a hand over his heart. “I promise, I promise. Never here.”

“I know you didn’t want the serious conversation,” Sho mumbled, “but if this…if this isn’t an isolated incident, then let’s at least abide by that rule for now. The rest I suppose we’ll have to…play by ear.”

“Sho, if this is going to make you uncomfortable, we don’t have to…”

He shut his eyes, laughing despite himself. “Don’t change your mind when I’ve already thrown logic and propriety out the window in favor of this. I can’t change the way I feel, so I won’t, alright? And my god, when you say my name, I can’t think of anything else but how badly I want you…”

He heard a little knock against the table, seeing Jun had tapped it with his knuckles.

“Then let’s get back to our project for Keita,” Jun said, looking as though he wanted to do nothing but pick up where they left off.

“And we’ll keep the rest quiet,” Sho agreed, wondering just when they’d be able to steal another moment like this.

The two of them both would have to be extremely careful from now on. 

—

It wasn’t the most romantic of plans, but at least Sho knew they wouldn’t cross the line anywhere they might get caught. In closing off the library, his classroom, Sho would be able to maintain the authority he had there. At least in the library Sho would only be Keita’s instructor, the position he was paid for.

When he wasn’t teaching, he decided, that time was his to use as he wished. It was what Jun had said from the very beginning.

It was foolish to embark on something with Jun. Every single reasonable cell in his body told him so repeatedly as the days carried on. But for so many years, Sho had governed himself with reason, and it had made him lonely. He held off on pursuing anyone for ages, fearing that word would get back to his employer.

He didn’t exactly have to worry about his employer discovering his secret this time.

With Keita’s lessons running longer each day, Sho wasn’t as idle as he’d been before. He now spent several hours a day teaching and at least an hour or two planning ahead for future lessons. Keita still had the occasional complaint, asking if he might draw instead of doing this lesson or that, but his participation was better than ever, and Sho had to continue developing lessons that would be both informative and adaptable to whichever mood Keita found himself in that day.

Jun attended fewer lessons, if only to keep away from temptation, Sho presumed. He busied himself around the house because he still couldn’t drive away. He kept finding things for Aiba to do, including coordinating the sale of things that weren’t needed by the Matsumoto family any longer. Jun was up and down the stairs despite the trouble his ankle was still giving him, hunting around in old bureaus of clothes, in piles of discarded items in the attic. Jun worked with Aiba to have items sold directly or sent to an auction, all proceeds no matter how small going toward house repairs and Keita’s trust.

But night time…night time was theirs.

Sho kept to the same routine he’d always had, so as not to tip off the staff. He dined with them in the kitchen while Jun continued taking his meals in the dining room. After dinner, Sho had his bath as usual and then retired to bed. It was only when Mao’s bedroom door closed, the only other member of staff residing in the family wing of the house, that they took a moment to indulge themselves.

It was easier for Sho to go to Jun’s rooms since he could best hear when Mao was in her room for the night or if she’d gone downstairs to combat one of Keita’s fits of pain. And it was not uncommon for Jun to stay up late, the light under his door visible to any member of staff far down the corridor if they left their rooms to use the washroom or indulge in a late night snack.

Jun kept the door to his bedroom closed for now, if only to set a boundary. There was so much they didn’t know about each other and where they might have spent their stolen moments entirely on the physical, instead they mostly talked.

Jun would pour them alcohol, and they’d sit beside each other on the sofa, exchanging bits and pieces of their lives before knowing one another. Sho spoke about his time in university, pursuing his degree, and then pursuing a career outside of academia. He told Jun about his parents, his siblings. His first unrequited love, a university classmate who had been very overt about sleeping with women.

He spoke about the cities he’d worked in, the children he’d taught. He spoke about the parents who’d employed him, the bits and pieces of the last 10 years of his life, everything that had somehow added up to him now working at Pinetree Manor. Sho had never thought his life was too interesting or out of the ordinary, but Jun seemed to like that about him. He asked a lot about Sho’s parents, obviously curious about what a life with a mother might be like, a life where a father didn’t hate you might be like.

It took Sho about a week or so to realize that Jun was likely encouraging him to talk more as a way to deflect attention from himself. Jun’s life, at least the pieces of it that he’d told Sho, mostly ended with his life at boarding school. He’d explained about his father’s decision to disown him. “More paperwork than he’d anticipated,” had been Jun’s only real comment on it.

Sho decided that if Jun wanted to know everything about him, then Jun had to trust in him just as much. Whatever Jun’s life had been, Sho wouldn’t judge him for it. A teenager cast from his home, it must have been horrible. And yet Jun had survived.

He went to Jun’s rooms as usual one evening, determined to put things on even footing. The light under the door was visible, a signal that Sho was free to enter. Once inside, he found Jun standing at the window, staring out into the dark with a glass in hand. 

He turned at the soft click of the closing door, smiling. “Snow already,” Jun said quietly, pointing outside.

Sho joined him, seeing small flakes blowing around. It had been summer when he’d come to Pinetree Manor, and it would soon be winter. The estate was closer to the mountains and often was blanketed in snow. The roads would be harder to navigate, and Haru-san and the cook were already working to stock up on food in the event that the road wasn’t cleared enough for a delivery from town.

Ohno’s garden and the green lawns would vanish for a while, and already the house was growing chillier. They’d have to monitor Keita very closely, ensure that he was kept warm. It would be his first winter in his changed condition.

As he watched the snow make its arrival known, he thought of the story Jun had told him the other day, of how much fun he and his brother used to have. Atsushi being ten years older, he sometimes pampered his little brother, tugging him around on a sled or helping him build a snowman. Even though their father had been horrible to Jun, cold and distant, his brother had loved him. 

Jun set his drink down on a side table, moving to stand behind Sho, wrapping his arms around his middle and resting his chin on his shoulder. Jun had made a teasing complaint before that the sharp angles of Sho’s shoulders made such a thing difficult, but he kept trying anyway. Sho was still growing accustomed to the affection Jun showed him, face reddening at the closeness.

“How are you feeling?” Sho asked, running his finger along the splint still on Jun’s right hand.

“I have an appointment in town in three days to make sure it’s healed. Can probably just tape it after that.”

Jun’s explanation was that he’d tripped at a friend’s house after a night of drinking, twisting his ankle and nearly breaking it as he fell, trying to brace himself with his hands, which had resulted in the cuts and broken fingers. He’d finally ditched the walking stick. He still favored his right leg, but with persistent walks around the house and grounds daily, he was almost back to his old self. 

“Won’t you tell me about your friend? The one where you fell and did this to yourself, I mean.”

He felt the warm tickle of Jun’s laughter against his neck. “You’ve met him. Well, you’ve met his body of work. His family owns a bakery in Tokyo.”

Sho remembered the blue cake box, that night Jun had returned with three of them. That night that should have been more obvious to Sho, should have hinted that perhaps Jun was attracted to him. Otherwise who would steal him away at midnight just to eat cake?

“Ikuta Toma,” Jun said. “A real pain in the ass.”

“You’d say such a thing about your friend?”

“If you met him, you’d agree with me,” Jun laughed. “He was in Kitagawa Troupe with me, always forgetting his damn script pages.”

“Is that the name of the acting troupe you were in?”

Jun’s voice was a little more hesitant. “Yes.”

Sho turned in Jun’s arms so he could look at him, grinning. “You haven’t told me much else about that. Didn’t Nino mention some stage name of yours?”

“Miyama Hiroto. Our director gave me the name when I said I didn’t wish to use my real name,” Jun explained. “It would have embarrassed my father if I had, but I was all out of sorts back then. I didn’t feel like doing anything that might get back to him and put him in a rage. If I had a new name, I could be famous on my own merits. I wasn’t the disinherited son of some country aristocrat. I could forge a new path.”

“And did you?”

Jun sighed. “We were always in debt, spending most of the income on fees to translate and put on western plays. Our director had ambitions of us touring the plays overseas, to go to the countries the plays came from and show them what the Japanese could do. We could barely afford the rent on our theater, so sometimes on weeknights the place was rented out for burlesque-type shows.”

“Was it enjoyable at least?”

Jun’s gaze seemed faraway, his attention elsewhere. “Hmm?”

Sho stroked his arm. “Was it enjoyable, I asked?”

“At times,” Jun said. “I stayed until we officially disbanded anyway. I think I spent more time cleaning the theater than acting on the stage.”

“What was it like being on the stage? Acting?”

Jun ignored him, leaning forward for a kiss. Sho allowed it, shutting his eyes. And this time he saw it for what it was - Jun didn’t want to answer his question. He didn’t doubt that Jun wanted to kiss him, but a pattern was emerging. The last several nights, he’d been so caught up in the newness of it, the way it felt to act on the feelings he’d bottled up for weeks. Unlike anyone Sho had ever known, he felt wanted by Jun. He felt desired. A kiss from Jun wasn’t a means to an end, a prelude to some rushed and unsatisfying encounter. It was confirmation that what they had could grow unhurriedly, if the slow and teasing way Jun kissed him, stroked his face, held onto him was any indication.

But Jun was still hiding something, and using the magnetic attraction they had for one another as a means of distraction. It all centered around his business in Tokyo. Tonight Sho had prodded around his acting troupe. On previous nights, he’d inquired innocently if Jun knew when he’d be called away to the capital again or if he already had plans to do so when he was fully healed.

In all instances, Jun had never told him he didn’t wish to discuss it. He never told Sho to back off. Instead he simply changed the topic or pushed Sho back against his sofa cushions, kissing him senseless until Sho was too far lost in it to care that he hadn’t actually gotten an answer.

This time, he couldn’t really allow it. He’d rather be told it wasn’t his business than to be strung along with physical distractions.

By now, Jun had turned them so Sho’s back was to the wall, pinning him there and kissing along his neck while his hands moved down to cup his backside through his trousers, squeezing. The other night Jun had plainly admitted to being fond of his ass.

“Jun,” he murmured, struggling to maintain his composure. “Jun, listen…”

“No,” came a teasing response followed by a hot slide of Jun’s tongue at his pulse.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” He groaned when Jun brought himself closer, and Sho could feel the hard length of him brush against his own erection. “Jun, why don’t you trust me?”

Jun stopped, stepping away with alarm in his face.

“What?”

Sho took a breath, desperate to regain his composure. If he hadn’t protested, he wondered how far Jun would have gone to avoid his questions this time. “I asked why you don’t trust me…”

“Of course I trust…”

“You’d rather kiss me than talk.”

Jun sighed. “What more is there to talk about?” He ran his fingers down Sho’s chest, teasing against fabric as he traced down from his neck to his belt. “I want you, and I’m trying to take it slow to prove I’m serious, that you mean more to me than…”

“I understand that,” he interrupted again, seeing irritation in Jun’s eyes because of it. “What I don’t understand is why you feel the need to stay closed off. I want to know you, all of you. I want to be someone you can confide in…about anything at all. I’ve never had anyone like that in my life, not until now. Not until you. I feel like I can tell you anything, and by god, I have. Why won’t you do the same?”

“And when you know everything, all of me, then what?” Jun asked, voice unsteady. “Will you still be unsatisfied?”

He’d touched a nerve.

“I only wish to be on the same footing. When you heal, I have no doubt that you’ll disappear again, to Tokyo. Will you even say where you’re going? What you’re doing there? When you’ll come back? If you’re seeing friends, then just say it. But if you’re living another life there, if I’m just an easy distraction here and you’ve got someone else there that you go and see, someone you’re betraying right here and right now with me…”

“There’s nobody else. There’s nobody in Tokyo,” Jun swore.

“You’re gone for days at a time, weeks even. The staff ignore how strange that is, and they usually just keep quiet. But one time I overheard the maids gossiping that you’ve got a mistress and a love child and that she calls you when she runs out of money and that’s why you always leave in a rush…”

Jun reached for him, a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Sho…Sho, stop. It’s not like that. You of all people should know I wouldn’t have a mistress.”

He’d known all this time that Jun’s disappearances bothered him. For weeks, months, he’d thought of Jun as irresponsible, running off on a whim. For weeks, months, Sho had convinced himself that he was concerned only with how Jun’s absences were affecting Keita. But it was his own ugly jealousy that was at fault.

He shut his eyes, ashamed of himself. Why did he feel so entitled to every dark secret Jun might be keeping?

“Forgive me. I’m being unfair,” he whispered a few moments later.

“I…there are things I cannot tell you. I simply cannot.”

He opened his eyes, looking up and seeing sorrow in Jun’s. “Ever?”

“I…I don’t know,” Jun admitted. “Perhaps someday. But whatever you do, never doubt what I feel for you. Trust me on that account even if you don’t trust me in any other way.”

“Jun…”

“It’s late, and you have school tomorrow.” Jun brushed a kiss to his cheek. “Sensei.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Does he know you’ve come to me?” Nino asked a few days later while Sho sat in his office in Matsumoto City.

He’d had Aiba drive him into town on his day off to do a little sightseeing, to see how some local shrines had changed with the seasons. He’d still done that, unable to lie to Aiba’s face, but he’d also dropped in at the Ninomiya Law Office against his better judgment.

Jun had left a note under the door before Sho had woken up that morning. It had only said “A week, perhaps less. I’m sorry.”

Jun’s motorcar was gone from the garage once more, and even another battery of snow flurries had not kept him from driving off.

“No, he doesn’t know. He left this morning, said he’ll be gone for a week.”

Nino frowned, having a sip of coffee. “It’s Keita-kun’s birthday in a week. The book is due to arrive at Pinetree from the printer’s in Tokyo tomorrow or the day after.”

“I know.”

“And he left no instructions in case he isn’t back before that day? On if we should hold off on the gift if he’s not here? I thought there was going to be a little party at the house?”

“He didn’t say a word to Aiba-san. He left a note with Keita saying he’d be gone on business and to pay close attention to his lessons. That at least was something he hadn’t done before. Apparently the note to me was the only one that gave a time estimate for his return.”

Nino sat, drinking his coffee and shaking his head.

“Do you know where he’s gone?” Sho asked.

“Tokyo.”

“As expected of the great detective,” Sho teased.

Nino smirked. “Perhaps I’m wrong. Perhaps he parks that car somewhere and meditates at a temple for days at a time.”

“When he had you go get him in Tokyo that time…when he was first injured. Did he tell you what happened?”

“In town visiting friends, that baker friend of his.”

“Ikuta.”

“Ikuta,” Nino agreed. “He told me there was some commotion at Tokyo Station, he tripped and fell.”

Sho’s blood ran cold. “He said it happened at Tokyo Station?”

“Yes,” Nino said, voice suspicious. “His friend got him to the hospital, got him patched up, and he called me that night.”

“He told me that he’d fallen at the friend’s house. He never said Tokyo Station.”

Nino set his mug down, rubbing his eyes. “He was probably embarrassed. Didn’t want to admit what really happened.”

“That doesn’t bother you, that he’d tell us two different things?”

“Oh, it bothers me.”

Sho was exasperated. “You don’t sound like it.”

He was answered with a chuckle, Nino getting to his feet and moving to a filing cabinet in the corner of his messy office. The top drawer required a key to open, which he dug out from his pocket. He retrieved a file folder from inside, setting it down on the desk between them.

“What’s that?” Sho asked.

“There’s a lot about Jun that bothers me,” Nino admitted. “He’s my friend and I’m cowardly by nature, so I don’t push him. But that doesn’t mean I remain intentionally ignorant. He was difficult to track down, after Atsushi and his wife died. As the family lawyer, I was the one who had to go to the hospital, authorize Keita’s treatment until Jun could be located.”

Sho stared at the folder, unwilling to open it. Perhaps inside it was evidence of what Jun had vowed never to tell him.

“I was searching, of course, for Matsumoto Jun in Tokyo. That was a dead end. I finally had to go through Atsushi’s effects. In his desk in his study I found some interesting things. Playbills, you know, the programs they hand out at the theater. Among the actors listed on each of them was a Miyama Hiroto. That name also appeared in one of Atsushi’s lists of contacts, there was a telephone number. It was Jun.”

“I thought Jun had stopped acting a few years ago.”

“He was still living under an assumed name. Even after his father died and there was no reason to hide, he kept living as Miyama.” Nino opened the folder. “He didn’t put up a fight when I informed him he’d been declared Keita’s guardian. In fact, he left that same day to drive up to the hospital, to make the arrangements for the funeral. He worked with me and with Natsuko’s family as though he’d never left Pinetree Manor. He returned to the name Matsumoto Jun.”

Nino slid the folder across the desk.

“But even with his new role, once Keita was in a more stable condition he kept running off back to Tokyo. He left me in charge with all the same excuses. ‘Nino, you know all that stuff better than I do,’ leaving management of the estate in my hands. I thought it was suspicious so I hired a private investigator, just to make sure there’d be no trouble. I hadn’t seen him in years, you know, I didn’t know the kind of life he’d been living. I never suspected he’d try to steal Keita’s money or anything, Jun’s not that kind of person. But I didn’t know the type of person Miyama Hiroto was, so I investigated just the same.”

Sho found theater programs inside. Plays he’d never heard of, all with a logo for the Kitagawa Troupe and a line on the inside cover stating that “Kitagawa Hiromu presents…”

Underneath the programs were handwritten notes, presumably from Nino’s investigator. Three arrests of a Miyama Hiroto, profession “Actor” in Tokyo. Two of them for trespassing on private property. One was settled with a fine, the other resulted in a jail term of two months. The third arrest was only described as “suspicious behavior,” resulting in an overnight in jail. Also arrested in that third incident was an Ikuta Toma, who was also listed as profession “Actor.” All three incidents had happened between 10 and 12 years earlier, when Jun was in his early twenties.

“Nothing other than those three arrests. I had the investigator look into Kitagawa Troupe, since Jun’s friend was arrested with him that one time. Massive debts for nearly the company’s entire existence. Kitagawa Hiromu questioned on a dozen different charges going back decades. Suspicion of black market activity, blackmail, fraud. None of them stuck to him, no evidence. Police records are pretty spotty, but my investigator found a few more arrests of actors in the Troupe…some arrests more recent than Jun’s. All the same sorts of things, mostly trespassing on private property. A few for theft.”

Sho frowned. “You think Jun was a thief?”

“I think Jun was young and vulnerable and got caught up in the wrong crowd.” Nino looked at him. “I don’t think he’s a bad person. But I do think he’s been quiet about his past so nothing would hurt Keita. If someone made the connection that Miyama Hiroto was Matsumoto Jun, it would be a scandal, I’m sure of it. Natsuko-san’s family would probably take him to court. Who knows what it would mean for Pinetree Manor or the staff there if the young master was taken away by his other family?”

Sho closed the folder. “Of course he wouldn’t tell me any of this. And I kept bothering him about it. About his time acting and all that.”

“I have all this on file, and I’ll keep it here, locked. Jun doesn’t know I have this. It’s probably some ethical violation or another, but I only investigated him with Keita’s best interests in mind.”

“The Kitagawa Troupe definitely went under?” Sho asked him, not sure he liked the idea that was now poking at him.

“Yes, I confirmed that. Three years ago the theater was sold off.”

“And Kitagawa Hiromu?”

“Retirement. He’s still alive, lives with a widowed sister of his.”

“And Miyama Hiroto? How did he make a living until this year?” Sho knew that with Jun stripped of his title and disinherited, there was no Matsumoto family money going to him. At least not officially. “Did his brother…?”

Nino shook his head. “No, Atsushi never sent him money. Even before my father retired I was handling most of the estate’s financial matters. While Taro-san was alive and even after he passed, Atsushi wasn’t funneling money to Jun. I’d have noticed, and I’d have said something.”

Sho pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a breath. “A theater troupe that went under and had been plagued with money troubles for its entire existence.”

“Yeah…”

He looked at Nino, heart sinking. “Then how on earth could Jun have bought that car of his? All those fancy clothes? What was he doing?”

“My investigator only found an address, some boarding house in Shinagawa. A landlord said Miyama Hiroto had been living there for almost a decade, had never caused trouble.”

“There’s so much that doesn’t add up,” Sho admitted.

“Have you changed your mind about him?” Nino leaned forward, looking at him kindly. “He needs you, Sho-san. Don’t turn away from him when you don’t have the full picture.”

“That’s funny, coming from you,” Sho said bitterly. “You’re the one who pushed and encouraged all of this, even with this file here full of suspicious incidents and charges. You’ve had this evidence for months and still you urged me on, all but pushed me into Jun’s bed…”

Nino held up his hands, shutting his eyes and letting out a soft noise of distress. “God, I don’t need the details…”

“Nino.”

The lawyer looked back at him, sighing. “Jun is a good man. I’ve seen too much proof of it this last year to believe that everything in this folder points to him being the opposite. I trust him, I believe in him. I believe that he wants the best care for his nephew. Hiring you is proof of that commitment.”

Sho sat back in the chair. “He’s not going to tell me the truth. If he’s doing all this to protect Keita, then he’ll never tell anyone.”

Nino checked his watch. “You said you were meeting Aiba-san at 3:00? It’s quarter to 3:00 right now.”

Sho got to his feet. “What should I do?”

“For now?” Nino said, getting up and putting his hands on his hips. “For now all I can advise is that you do the job you were hired to do. And accept Jun as he is, even if there are blank spaces that may never be filled in. You’ve changed him. You’ve helped him to connect with Keita. You’ve made him happy. Isn’t that something worth cherishing?”

“And if Keita’s birthday comes and he hasn’t returned?”

“Then Sensei, you simply throw the party without him.”

—

Sho was woken on the morning of Keita’s birthday by the sound of Inoue Mao screaming.

He rushed out of bed, flinging open his bedroom door and racing down the stairs, already hearing Aiba hollering Mao’s name on the ground floor. They found her in Keita’s room, grief stricken.

And no wonder.

Keita wasn’t there.

Aiba approached her, resting his hands on his shoulders. Sho stood in the doorway, still adjusting to the dark morning. The sun hadn’t even risen yet. “Mao-chan,” Aiba was saying as soothingly as he could. “Mao-chan, calm down.”

“Where is he? He takes his medication right now, where is he?!” Mao cried hysterically, gesturing wildly around the room. The bed had been slept in, but its occupant was gone. And so was his wheelchair.

“He can’t have gone far,” Sho said, stating the obvious.

When other staff arrived, most of them having charged down the stairs in pajamas and sleepwear just as Sho and Aiba had, they all gasped in horror at the empty bedroom. Haru-san arrived with a clear head as always. She started splitting people up, sending them off to search. 

The ramp Ohno had installed for the wheelchair was still bolted in place outside. Sho didn’t believe that Keita was strong enough to both get the door open and potentially wheel himself down the ramp on his own power. Kotaki the footman confirmed that the door hadn’t been left open, that Keita had not gone out into the gardens that way.

Sho confirmed that the library was empty, and the staff discovered that the rest of the ground floor was as well. It was Fujii, the other footman, who came running back into the house, astonished.

“The garage!” Fujii cried, waving for Aiba to come check. “I found his chair by the garage!”

Despite the windy morning chill, several of them went outside, moving hurriedly across the gravel in their slippers. Sho shivered even in his heavier flannel pajamas, finding just what Fujii had when he ran up to Aiba’s side.

The garage was closed, but once Aiba tugged it open, the family car he always drove was still there. Keita’s wheelchair had been parked just outside. The brakes on the wheelchair were locked to keep it in place.

“A kidnapping?” one of the maids asked, almost in tears.

“There’s only one kidnapper who’d leave Keita’s wheelchair by this garage,” Aiba said, shaking his head in disappointment. “Let’s go back inside. Everyone back inside before you catch a chill. Let’s have breakfast and wait for them to come back.”

“For who to come back?” Ohno asked, having just jogged over after checking the garden paths for Keita just in case.

Aiba patted Ohno on the shoulder, their breaths visible in the early winter air. “The birthday boy and his guardian.”

They heard the car come up the gravel road shortly after 7:30. It was a wonder none of them had heard them leave the first time. How slow had Jun had to drive?

Almost as one, the staff rose from their seats in the kitchen, ignoring the last bites of breakfast as they hurried to go back outside. With the weather, Jun had put the top up on the car, pulling up to the garage and stopping. Sho stood back, watching as Aiba stepped up, approaching the car.

But once Jun had the door open, getting out to presumably get the wheelchair so he could help Keita into it, Mao broke past them all, running across the driveway. Jun was just about to open his mouth and explain when Mao hit him. The crack of her palm against his cheek was so loud that the staff let out a collective gasp where they huddled for warmth at the back door.

Sho took a step forward, hoping to smooth things over, keep Mao from getting herself fired. Jun had already lifted a gloved hand to his face in surprise, but when she raised her arm to slap him again, this time he was faster, catching her wrist in his hand and then her other one when she struggled against him.

“Listen,” he tried to tell her. “Mao-chan, listen…”

“You can’t do that!” Mao screamed, her voice shattering the morning silence. “Matsumoto-san, you can’t do that!”

Aiba hurried around to the other side of the car, opening the door. Whatever he said to Keita in that moment, none of the staff heard, but soon the boy had an arm around Aiba so he could be lifted from the car and set down in his chair. Aiba then quickly grabbed Keita’s mound of blankets, settling them on his lap. Jun was no neglectful fool - Keita was fully dressed and was wearing a wool coat, a scarf, and a hat. Aiba continued whispering to Keita, gesturing to Ohno with his head as he pushed the chair. They’d push Keita into the house using the ramp.

Mao was still struggling with Jun, and it was Haru-san who had to walk up and pull her away, rubbing her arms to keep her warm while Jun stood there in a stunned silence. When Haru brought Mao inside, the rest of the staff followed. That left Sho to walk up to Jun and his still-running car.

“I left a note,” Jun mumbled, unable to look Sho in the eye.

“Where?”

“On the nightstand beside his bed.” Jun fumbled in his coat pocket, bringing out a bottle of Keita’s pain medication. “I gave him one at 6:30, just like Mao does every morning. I didn’t want him out of his routine.”

“Jun, we didn’t know where he’d gone. We didn’t know it was you until we found the chair parked out here.”

Jun turned to finally look at him, alarmed. He reached out, touching Sho’s cheek. “You’ll catch a cold.”

Sho stepped back before someone looked out the back door or came around. “The others might see.”

“Go inside. I’ll explain everything.”

“And Mao-chan? What about Mao-chan?”

Jun got back into his car so he could park it in the garage. He rolled down the window. “If she didn’t find my note, then I definitely understand why she slapped me.”

All was explained once Jun was back in the house, and all the staff gathered in the main hall save for Mao, who was tending to Keita. Jun had arrived back from Tokyo very late, not wanting to wake anyone with the car so he’d parked it further down the drive away from the house.

As a birthday surprise, he woke Keita shortly after 5:00, got him dressed, and wheeled him to where he’d parked the car. He’d then brought the wheelchair over to the garage for when they returned. He’d driven Keita into town, parking the car just near the train station. Together they’d watched the first mail train of the day leave for Tokyo after sunrise. Keita had been so happy.

When Mao came out of Keita’s room, she had calmed down. Apparently the note Jun had left, a very detailed note explaining where they’d gone and the medication he’d brought with, had fallen off of the nightstand, slipping between it and the bed. Jun probably hadn’t noticed as he was focused on quietly wheeling his nephew from the house for the big surprise.

Where any other man of Jun’s status would have fired Mao, right there in front of all the staff to make it sting all the more, instead he took both of her hands in his and apologized. “I should have woken you anyway,” he told her, not caring that everyone was watching, listening. “I’m sorry to have troubled you. I hope you can forgive me.”

Mao didn’t apologize for hitting him but inclined her head in understanding.

Jun then ordered everyone back to work in a more commanding tone, reminding them there was a party to prepare for. After retrieving his things from the car, Jun disappeared into Keita’s room, presumably to explain all the trouble that had happened.

When Sho was standing alone in the hall, nothing to do since there would be no lessons that day, he just shook his head ruefully. So many things might have gone wrong. The car might have skidded on a patch of ice. Keita might have caught a cold or spasmed from pain. He might have seen the mail train up close, heard the noise of its whistle and had a flashback to the night when he’d been injured, when his parents had been taken away. None of that had happened, and Keita had been given a beautiful surprise.

But it would be a long time still before Matsumoto Jun would fully understand that when it came to Keita, even surprises needed to be thought out with considerable care.

—

The birthday party was a success. After all the excitement of the morning, Keita himself apologized to the staff for inconveniencing them and making them upset. Once that was done, everyone moved into the dining room. Haru-san and her staff had done an incredible job transforming the room into a “train station.”

Ohno had done all the artwork in his free time the last few weeks, his drawings of locomotives and imitated destination boards tacked up on the walls. The dining table had a “track” running down the center that the maids had put together with wire, and all the place settings at the grand table were the names of different stations in Nagano. At Keita’s place at the head of the table was a “Matsumoto Station” place card and the gift-wrapped book. The staff together had pooled money to buy Keita several new blank art books he could use to draw. Nino had bought him a new set of colored pencils. And his mother’s family in Hokkaido had sent down boxes of new clothes.

Keita’s reaction to the book was clearly important to Jun, who was sitting at the other end of the long table. Sho could see the nervousness in his face as Keita untied the ribbon, unwrapped it with care. But as soon as he saw the cover, Keita’s mouth dropped open. It was a perfect recreation of Morimoto-san…the little figurine anyhow, but rendered fully human. The cover said “Morimoto and the Train,” the title Keita had given his work, as well as “Written by Matsumoto Keita.”

The staff watched with smiles as Keita slowly opened the freshly printed book, finding his own words on every page along with beautiful illustrations. Nino spoke up as Keita continued looking through it, his face as happy as Sho had ever seen it. “Your Uncle Jun thought you should be a published author. What do you think?”

Keita’s shouted “Uncle Jun, you’re the best!” made the staff laugh, but Jun himself turned bright red, wiping a few tears and not caring if anyone saw.

As Keita had looked through the book, almost ignoring the beautiful cake the cook and her assistant had made him, he’d vowed then and there that he’d write a sequel so he could continue Morimoto-san’s adventures. The party over, Aiba drove Nino back into town while Mao brought Keita to the library to play with his train and start plotting a new story. Sho helped the staff to clean up the dining room, taking down Ohno’s artwork with care so that Keita could pin them up in his own room. 

He was just returning from dropping them off when he walked past the study. Inside he could hear Jun speaking on the telephone. He’d left the door partly open, and he had his back to Sho.

“Are you sure? I’ve only just returned…you know why I had to go!”

Sho knew he ought to keep walking, but most of the staff were celebrating in the kitchen with the leftover cake and a bit of alcohol now that Keita was in bed. Nobody would notice him standing just outside in the hall.

“Toma, we don’t know who else might…” Jun’s shoulders were tense as he gripped the earphone in his hand, speaking into the receiver that he held tightly in his other hand. “How will we ever know?”

It was clearly a personal conversation with his friend, so Sho decided to leave him to it. But it had been a week since he’d been alone with Jun, and he’d missed him despite everything Nino had shown him in his office. Perhaps the truth would come out, in time. For now, Sho hoped he could have the same faith and trust in Jun that Nino had.

He went upstairs, impulsively moving down the hall to Jun’s rooms when he confirmed that nobody else could see him. After Jun’s surprise for Keita that morning, Sho wondered if it was right to surprise him in return. He moved from the sitting room to Jun’s bedroom, leaving the light off as he shut the door behind him, standing beside it.

Jun arrived a few minutes later, the main door to the master’s suite opening and closing. Sho concentrated on breathing quietly, feeling rather embarrassed as he heard Jun pour himself a drink in the other room. Maybe he should have saved his surprise for the sitting room. How long would it be before Jun even came into his bedroom? And how silly would he look now emerging from Jun’s room and making himself known?

He heard Jun set down the glass a short time later, his footsteps coming toward the bedroom. Finally, his stupid chance had come. As soon as Jun opened the door, walking into the bedroom, Sho snuck up on him from behind, moving to embrace him.

So it surprised him entirely when Jun whirled around with astonishing speed, punching Sho right in the gut. He staggered back, tripping over what was probably one of Jun’s travel suitcases. Unable to see in the dark, he landed on the floor hard. When he heard the nightstand drawer open and an unfamiliar but bone-chilling click, he knew he was in trouble.

“It’s me!” he gasped, wind mostly knocked out of him. “Jun, it’s me!”

The lamp on the nightstand went on, and Sho found himself on the bedroom floor, holding up his hands as Jun trained a revolver on him. That was the click he’d heard, Jun getting the gun out of the drawer and preparing to fire. Sho had never actually seen one in person before, and his jaw dropped.

Jun lowered it in an instant when he saw it was him. “What the _fuck_ are you doing?” Jun hissed at him, fumbling with some mechanism that presumably kept it from firing. He quickly returned it to the drawer and came over, kneeling on the floor beside him. “Don’t come up behind me like that, I thought you were a thief!”

“A thief?” Sho complained, stomach aching from Jun’s strong punch. Where had he learned to hit like that? Sho could only imagine how much worse he’d feel if Jun had been able to punch him with the lights on. He took a breath, grimacing. “Why the hell would a thief come all the way out to this house in the cold?”

Jun sighed, getting to his feet again and holding out a hand to hoist Sho up. Sho wobbled a little, as he’d fallen hard on his backside. Jun held him steady. He looked up, still a bit shocked.

“You keep a loaded gun in this house?”

“For my protection.”

“From whom? Someone trying to give you a romantic surprise?”

“Romantic,” Jun chided him, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re lucky I didn’t kick you when you went down, I could have broken your ribs.”

Sho shrugged Jun off, moving to sit on the bed. His abdomen was still throbbing, but he’d feel better soon enough. “Well thanks for that then.”

Jun sat beside him, resting a hand on his thigh. “That was really stupid of you.”

“I’m aware of it now.” Jun’s hand was warm, and Sho only just realized how hard he was trembling. It wasn’t every day a man punched him, much less held a gun on him. “I’m sorry.”

“I just reacted. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You’re very fast.”

“Yeah.”

“For what it’s worth,” Sho said quietly, “I missed you, and the stupidity of that feeling resulted in me skulking around in here like a child playing hide and seek. I suppose you’ll remind me of this moment whenever you feel like laughing about something.”

“Probably.” Jun’s voice was teasing. “You haven’t wet yourself, have you?”

“No!”

Jun gave his shoulder a gentle push. “Keep your voice down, would you? This is my house and I’ll make whatever noise I like, but since you’re all about discretion…”

He turned, reaching for Jun’s tie and pulling him close. Jun batted his hand away from his expensive tie but met Sho with equal enthusiasm. The closed bedroom door had served very well to keep things from escalating between them so far, but Sho had been the one to venture inside. He knew what that meant and Jun probably did too. They kissed like they hadn’t seen one another for a year rather than a week. It was so easy to get lost in it, to let physical need take over with Jun’s skilled and dangerous mouth on his own.

Jun eventually moved back, taking off his glasses when it grew far too awkward to keep them on, putting them on the bedside table. “Let me lock the door.”

Sho sat there, breathing heavily as Jun got up, heading out to lock the main door. When he returned, he shut the bedroom door and locked it as well. “Sometimes Aiba is very determined to bother me,” Jun said, taking off his suit jacket and putting it on a chair.

Sho sat there on the bed, watching with growing interest as Jun loosened his tie, tugging it off and setting it down on one of his chests of drawers. Before he could start on his buttons, Sho spoke.

“Slower.”

Jun raised an eyebrow at the command but did as he was told. Sho watched, barely acknowledging the dull ache in his gut, as Jun slowly brought his fingers first to his cuffs, undoing the cufflinks and setting them down on top of the drawer beside his tie. Next were the buttons on his shirt, one at a time, and then he was pulling it off. Underneath he had on a simple white sleeveless undershirt, and Sho inhaled sharply at the sight of the well-defined muscles of his arms, the line of his collarbone.

Sho sat there on the bed, still fully clothed, as Jun slipped out of his shoes and socks and reached for his belt, sliding the leather through the loops of his slacks and letting it drop to the floor. The trousers were next, and Jun deliberately folded them up neatly, draping them over the chair. He was clad only in that undershirt and a body-hugging pair of underwear as he approached the bed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, reaching out a hand to stroke Sho’s stomach through his layers of clothes.

“Been better,” Sho admitted.

“Come on,” Jun said, “your turn.”

He tugged Sho to his feet and where Sho had thought Jun’s own pace at undressing was slow (on his orders, of course), Jun undressed him at an even more leisurely speed. Sho tried to help him along, trying to undo the buttons of the waistcoat he’d worn that day and getting a gentle reprimanding slap on the hand from Jun.

“I’ll do it.”

Where Jun had taken obvious care with his own clothes, he wasn’t all that concerned about Sho’s. Once the waistcoat was on the floor, Jun was working on his shirt, spacing out each unbuttoning with a kiss that left Sho weak in the knees. Another button, another kiss. Another button, another kiss. Once his shirt was untucked from his slacks and fully open, Jun left it on him, tracing his fingers down Sho’s chest for a moment, caressing his belly.

“I really am sorry,” he murmured.

“Lesson learned,” Sho said.

Jun slipped his shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to his floor and leaning in for another kiss. Sho opened his mouth, sighing as he let Jun’s tongue slip inside, exploring and teasing. He lifted his hands, feeling Jun shiver when he reached out to touch warm, bare skin, tracing up and down his arms.

Jun managed to tug away his belt, reaching for his zipper. When his slacks were gone, Jun kissed the corner of his mouth. “Back. Lay back.”

Sho did as he was ordered, getting back onto the bed and scooting a little. Jun yanked his socks off with swift tugs and then moved at a pace that was just as torturous as each of his kisses had been. Instead of joining Sho, Jun instead kissed his way north, up from the bones of Sho’s ankles and up his leg, ticklishly soft kisses that had him unsure whether he should laugh or beg for him to continue.

Jun positioned himself between Sho’s legs, spreading them so he could bring his lips along the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, long lingering kisses that had Sho’s legs shaking, had his cock hard and aching to be free of his underwear. Jun seemed to understand this, immediately taking his mouth away and starting over, kissing his way up Sho’s other leg.

“You did say slower,” Jun teased him, a breath ticklish against his shin.

Sho groaned when Jun’s progress became almost too slow. When Jun had made his way back up, his tongue sliding along the edge where the cotton of his trunks met his thigh, Sho moved his hand to the back of Jun’s head, threading his fingers through his dark locks.

“Want you,” he complained, trying to keep from thrusting up his hips when Jun started kissing his way up further, hard and hot along the waistband of his trunks. Anywhere, Sho realized, but where he most wanted Jun’s mouth to be. “Touch me.”

It had been so long since anyone had touched him. Even in all their alone time so far, Jun and he had not yet crossed this boundary. Now Sho was teetering at the edge, worrying he was going to come before Jun even touched him. As soon as Jun’s mouth inched over, lips ghosting along the pulsing hot length of him, Sho arched up.

“Oh Sho-san, really,” Jun murmured, palm of his hand moving to cup his balls through the fabric as he continued to tease with his mouth. 

“I’d rather not make a mess of my underwear,” Sho complained, fingers shaking as he held onto Jun’s hair.

“Then don’t,” Jun said simply.

But then he kept right on, not removing Sho’s underwear but pressing lingering kisses against him. “You’re too good at this,” Sho complained. “I’ll only disappoint you…”

Jun stopped, crawling up the bed to press a firm kiss to his mouth. Jun then traced Sho’s lips with his fingers. “With a mouth like yours, how could you ever disappoint me?”

Sho rolled his eyes, letting Jun kiss him again, letting Jun swallow his moan when he finally slipped a hand into his underwear, stroking him. When Jun’s thumb swiped along the sensitive head of his cock, he knew he’d be done for soon.

“I’ll have more self-control next time,” Sho vowed. “But will you please…will you…”

Jun kissed him and then gave him a rather condescending pat on the cheek. “Since you asked so nicely, I suppose I can be nice too.”

Jun moved again, sliding Sho’s trunks down and letting his erection free. Jun’s grip was firm, taking Sho’s erection in hand and pumping him a few times before lapping up a few pearls of pre-come glistening on the head of his cock. 

“Oh my god…”

Jun chuckled. “You’re very adorable when you’ve lost control, Sensei. And to think, I haven’t even done much to you yet.”

“Shut up,” he whined. “I haven’t been with many people before and I…”

Jun swirled his tongue around the head of his cock once, twice, before starting to suck, timing the stroke of his hand to match his rhythm. Sho lay back, shutting his eyes and putting a hand over his mouth to keep from being too noisy. It didn’t take much more than a few more strokes, Jun taking Sho’s cock nearly to the back of his throat before he was panting, trying to keep from jerking about and making Jun choke. 

He tried to offer Jun a warning, a hand to the top of his head but it only made Jun’s movements faster. Sho listened to the obscene sound of the act, realizing that he was about to come in a nobleman’s mouth. And that did it.

“Jun,” he groaned, “Jun, Jun, Jun…”

He lay back, seeing stars and breathing heavily. Jun was right, he hadn’t done all that much to him yet, but he felt a satisfaction he could barely describe. It had been so long since someone had made him come like this.

“I’ll…allow me to also…allow me to…”

Jun was already crawling up alongside him, kissing his sweaty face, breathing him in, not giving a damn how lost in pleasure he was, how silly he probably looked. Sho was adrift in his foolish ideas. He hadn’t just come in a nobleman’s mouth…said nobleman had swallowed it all down without complaint. The part of his brain that hadn’t entirely short-circuited from his release reminded him that Jun wasn’t technically a nobleman, et cetera et cetera, but…

“Sho.”

“Mmm?”

“Another time will be fine.” Jun’s chuckle sent a fresh wave of warmth through him. “I’d rather you not fall asleep halfway through sucking me off because I’d be forced to tease you about it until the day I die.”

Sho knew he ought to leave, ought to get up and head for his own room. And yet Jun was gently tugging his trunks back up his legs, moving the blankets so they could both get under them. He wasn’t sure what excuse would even work come morning, but they’d decide upon that when the time came. 

For now, Sho let Jun manipulate him as he saw fit, returning Jun’s long, passionate kisses with pathetic lethargy, missing Jun’s mouth half the time and earning more laughter. Jun eventually gave up, moving to turn out the light. He shoved Sho over to the other half of the bed, rolling him onto his belly so he could squeeze his ass.

“Do you snore?” Jun murmured maybe a foot away.

“Terribly.”

“I’ll punish you for that.”

He laughed softly, still feeling the phantom heat of Jun’s mouth on his cock even now, wondering when he might experience such a thing again. “I look forward to accepting whatever you dole out.”

He felt Jun’s fingers stroke his arm. “Good night, Sensei.”

“Good night.”

—

True to his word, Jun woke him in the middle of the night. Sho was disoriented, unsure where he even was at first until realizing just whose unfamiliar bed he was sleeping in. 

The warmth Sho had felt was suddenly wrenched away. Jun had tugged the blankets off of him. Having fallen asleep in only his underwear, he was alarmed by the chill. He felt Jun move on the mattress beside him, and then the light was on.

“What the hell?” Sho grumbled, shutting his eyes to block it out.

“You snore like a foghorn,” came Jun’s voice.

“Sorry.”

“Lie on your back.”

Half asleep, shivering a little, Sho still did as he was told. “I could look at you for days and not get tired of it,” Jun said, sounding sleepy himself, “but listening to you snore is another matter.”

“Should I go back to my room?”

“No.”

He cracked one eye open, seeing that Jun was moving again, removing his undershirt. Sho’s legs were wrenched apart and Jun knelt between them, teasing fingers up and down Sho’s thighs. Suddenly exposed like this, the blankets pulled away, Sho couldn’t help but wonder what Jun was planning. He opened both eyes, blinking a little.

He watched, a little confused as Jun started to touch himself, running a hand along his own bare chest, tracing one of his nipples.

“What are you doing?”

Jun licked his lips, one hand touching his chest, the other moving up and down Sho’s leg. “Punishment.”

“Too tired for punishment.”

“Just lie there. I distinctly remember you saying you’d accept whatever I did.”

Sho shut up. Jun had him there.

He watched Jun, waking a little more second by second, unable to look away. Jun stayed right where he was, kneeling between Sho’s legs. Eventually he shimmied his own underwear down his legs, exposing himself and making Sho inhale sharply in anticipation. In the shadowy bedroom, he watched as Jun started to touch his cock.

Soon enough their eyes met. And the contact didn’t break. Sho just kept looking at him, Jun watching him in return, the only sound in the room being their breathing and the slick sound of Jun working his cock. 

“Touch your lips. Very slowly,” Jun ordered him. 

Sho did so, moving his index and middle fingers to his bottom lip. He stroked back and forth, seeing Jun’s concentration waver a little. But he didn’t stop. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you?” Jun asked.

“Tell me.”

“From the day you arrived. When you sat in that chair, when I first saw your face.”

“Liar,” Sho whispered.

It was almost impossible to look Jun in the eyes the more it went on, but that was what Jun wanted. Jun wanted to look at him, Jun needed to look at him. He could tell that Jun was touching himself with almost punishing strokes, the sound of it shooting straight to his groin, making him hard again. 

He traced his own mouth once more, hearing Jun’s soft little gasp of encouragement. When he slipped a finger past his lips, sucking, Jun seemed to be struggling to keep his eyes open. They didn’t speak any longer, only giving into baser feelings, primal urges. Sho sucked his finger, listening to Jun’s breaths grow more ragged and desperate, listening as he jerked off. 

With his other hand he palmed himself through his underwear, wondering if Jun wanted to be inside of him. Wondering if Jun wanted to fuck him. He realized how badly he wanted that, how badly he wanted Jun to come inside him. He wondered if Jun was thinking about it too, unable to say it but fantasizing about it as he knelt there between Sho’s legs.

He blinked, his own breath unsteady. When Jun finally broke eye contact, shutting his eyes and letting out a moan, Sho felt like he’d earned some strange sort of victory. He shoved his trunks down, joining Jun in a frenzied rush. As soon as Jun let out a desperate whimper, he moved, adjusting his position and bracing one hand on the mattress beside Sho. He felt pressure against his own abdomen and then warmth as Jun did his best to keep from making too much of a mess.

Sho moaned as Jun continued to pump his cock, his fist almost kneading against Sho’s belly as he came, some of his hot release escaping to pool in Sho’s navel. That soon put Sho over the edge again himself, and Jun had barely finished when Sho dirtied himself further, his own come mingling with Jun’s against his belly.

He felt Jun’s mouth at his neck, kissing and sucking gently at his skin, before he got up and headed for his bathroom. He returned with a damp washcloth, cleaning Sho and then himself.

This time when the lights were turned off again, Jun didn’t push him away. Jun didn’t tease him or whine about the snoring that would inevitably come once Sho fell asleep again.

Instead Jun turned them so they were on their sides, the whole solid, strong length of Jun’s body pressed up behind his own. He felt the feather-light brush of Jun’s mouth against his shoulder. 

“I’ll tell you. Sho, I’ll tell you everything.”

He let out a breath, astonished. He knew exactly what Jun meant by ‘everything.’

“When?”

“Soon.”

—

There was something thrilling about how they had to keep things secret. After that first night, Aiba had knocked at the door in the morning. Jun had pulled Sho into the sitting room, shoving a pillow and blanket at him. Opening the door in his bathrobe, it would look to anyone like Sho had simply fallen asleep on the sofa while Jun had slept in his room.

On the second night, Sho had knelt before Jun and sucked his cock until his jaw ached and his body was screaming for him to get up. But Jun’s hand in his hair, his desperate gasps for it only urged Sho on, swallowing once and then again a short time later when he’d touched and kissed Jun into a frenzied second time. The sound of his name falling from Jun’s lips could have urged him on all night, but he eventually had to retire, leaving Jun in an exhausted heap on the sofa and grinning as he shut the door behind him.

On the third night, Jun had told him shortly after dinner that it was best they take a break. Sho had gone to bed disappointed, only to be woken in the middle of the night by Jun crawling into his bed. Jun pressed a hand over his mouth, laughing.

“I locked the door,” Sho mumbled against his palm. “How did you…?”

Jun didn’t answer, instead kissing him and slipping his hand into his underwear, whispering again and again that Sho had to be quiet or he’d wake up poor Mao-chan with his cries. Jun brought him close to the edge over and over, stroking him until he was just about to come and then stopping. He was on the brink of tears, thrusting himself against Jun’s hand, wanting so badly to come. But every time Jun would get him there and stop abruptly, his voice hot and demanding by his ear.

“Not yet, I know you can do it.”

And he wanted to please him. He wanted to please him so desperately. God, he’d do anything…

Jun had him close once more, and by now Sho had lost count. This time when he stopped, he stroked Sho’s forehead with his fingers, moving his sweaty hair aside. “I’ve brought something,” he murmured. “Let me touch you.”

Fumbling in the dark, he felt around until he found Jun’s hand, a small bottle with a cap. “What’s that?”

“Just relax.”

Whatever it was, some oil or cream, Jun generously coated his fingers with it. Sho covered his mouth, gasping when Jun spread his legs, circling his fingers around his hole, slicking him down further. He exhaled hard when Jun slowly inserted a finger inside him. Sho’s cock, still achingly hard and now neglected, rested heavily against his belly as Jun started to touch him.

“Quiet, stay quiet,” Jun ordered him, and Sho was desperate to try, but it wasn’t exactly easy. He shut his eyes, adjusting to the sensation as Jun’s finger slowly worked in and out of him. Jun was close every step of the way, teasing the fingers of his other hand along Sho’s abdomen, across his hip bone. Before too long, Sho felt a further intrusion, Jun adding a second finger, his careful, shallow thrusting making Sho moan quietly.

As the minutes ticked away, Jun’s movements grew more hurried, his fingers moving faster, deeper inside until he reached again for Sho’s cock. He alternated skillfully, fingers moving within him, his other hand pumping Sho. When Jun deliberately angled his fingers inside Sho, finding his prostate, Sho knew he was done for, gasping Jun’s name.

“It’s okay,” Jun said, “it’s okay.”

Jun moved his hand, tugging quickly for Sho’s pajama top, pulling the fabric over his cock so he wouldn’t come everywhere. Jun’s fingers slowed within him, long and thorough strokes that left Sho a quivering mess. He felt empty when Jun withdrew them, leaving him on the bed exhausted.

“What about…what about my shirt…” he whispered into the darkened bedroom.

Jun had no answers, merely kissing him goodbye and slipping out the door. As Sho stood in front of the sink early the next morning scrubbing his pajama top desperately so Haru-san wouldn’t be alarmed when it was time to do his laundry, he thought about what had happened.

He knew there were two sets of master keys to Pinetree Manor. One set was Aiba’s, the other was Haru’s. Jun definitely didn’t have a key to his room.

So how the hell had he gotten in?


	6. Chapter 6

He was in the middle of a kanji lesson a week later, trying his best to keep Keita focused on learning some more challenging ones, when there was a knock on the library door. “Come in.”

It was Aiba, his face serious. “I’m sorry to interrupt your lessons, Sensei, but there’s a telephone call for you. It sounded quite urgent. You can take it in the study.”

He set the chalk down, trying to mask his alarm. “Very well. Keita, please excuse me for one moment. Keep working on these, and we’ll have extra drawing time.”

He found the study empty, and Aiba shut the door to give him privacy.

“Yes, hello?”

“Is this Sakurai Sho?” asked an unfamiliar voice.

“Yes, it is. May I help you?”

“My name is Tottori Kenichi, I’m a doctor at the hospital in Karuizawa. Is your mother Sakurai Naoko-san?”

His heart dropped. “Yes. Yes, that’s my mother.”

“Sakurai-san, I don’t want to alarm you, but your mother is here right now. She came in complaining of abdominal pain. We’re still running tests at the moment, and we’ll be keeping her here until they are completed and we can identify what may be ailing her. I was given this number to telephone you.”

“Is my father there? Is another member of my family with her?”

“Yes, your father is in the room with her. You have a younger brother as well, he’s here.”

“Good,” he mumbled, panicking a little. At least someone was with her. “My sister?”

“She is next on my list to call. Your father asked that I contact you both so you can be aware of the situation and come here if you wish.”

“Tottori-sensei was it?” Sho asked, a little confused.

“Yes, sir.”

“My mother’s regular doctor is Kadowaki-sensei. Is he there as well?”

“I’m afraid Kadowaki-sensei is on vacation. But your mother is receiving the best possible care while we determine what is wrong with her. Can we expect you here?”

Sho took a breath. While the air was considerably cold, there was no snow in the forecast at least for today. It would take several hours by train. The route by automobile might be faster…

“I will do my best to arrive today. Please let my parents know I’m coming.”

“Yes, of course, Sakurai-san. We do not believe it is life-threatening, but I’m sure it would be a comfort if you came.”

“Yes, thank you. Goodbye.”

He hung up the phone, walking as steadily as he could manage out of the study. His parents had come to Matsumoto City a few weeks earlier for lunch, to catch up on Sho’s new life here. His mother had always been in such good health.

He found Aiba in the dining room where Jun was having a late lunch. They both looked up when Sho tapped on the door.

“Sorry to interrupt, I’ve just had some bad news.”

Jun set down his chopsticks, face filling with concern.

“What is it? How can I help?” Aiba asked.

“My mother’s in the hospital back home in Karuizawa. Nothing immediately threatening, but they’re keeping her to determine what’s wrong.” He turned to Jun. “Forgive me for having to abandon lessons, but I would like to go see her, if that’s alright.”

“Of course it’s alright,” Jun said, getting to his feet. “I’ll drive you.”

“What?” Aiba interrupted, “don’t be silly, I can take him to the train station, Jun-san.”

“It’s faster to Karuizawa by car. It takes a few different trains to go around the mountains. Nonsense. I’ll drive.”

Sho shook his head. “That’s…you don’t have to…”

“I insist,” Jun said, and there was something in his face that Sho couldn’t quite read. He almost looked angry, but then why would he volunteer to drive Sho all that way?

Sho offered apologies to Keita, saying he’d probably be gone a few days. Keita said he would make a get well card for Sho’s mother, and Jun shook his head. “Let’s wait until we know more information. We’ll be leaving now,” he said, which struck Sho as a bit strange.

When they were away from the library, they headed upstairs so Sho could pack a bag. He could stay at his parents’ house while he was gone. “Jun,” he called out, and he turned around. “We can stay and let him draw a card for her. He means well by it.”

“Let’s just get on the road. We can call Aiba and have him mail it out later.”

Sho shrugged. “Very well.”

He packed a few days’ worth of clothes and his toiletry bag. Members of the staff shook his hands, offering good wishes to his mother and his family. He gave Mao a few ideas for lessons to do in his absence, and after her months of observation in the classroom, he had no doubt that she’d be a fine substitute.

Within the hour, he and Jun had bags in the trunk of the car, a quick dinner packed from the cook with them, and they were on the road.

They were just outside of Matsumoto City and onto the highway when Sho finally emerged from his fog of worry, realizing he hadn’t yet thanked Jun for going out of his way for him.

“I’m sorry for the trouble. It’s truly kind of you to drive me all this way.”

Jun said nothing, his face grim as he held tight to the steering wheel, moving the car around the curving mountain road.

“What’s wrong?”

“We aren’t going to Karuizawa.”

Sho was confused. “We’re taking an alternate route?”

“We’re going to Tokyo.”

“Just a moment,” he interrupted in a panic. “Jun, my mother is…”

“Your mother is fine, Sho.”

He sat there for a moment, not sure what to do. What to say.

“You received a call from a doctor you don’t know. He’s not your mother’s doctor. When you made inquiries about your family, you probably expected one of them to come onto the line and talk to you. But of course they didn’t. You only spoke with this unfamiliar doctor.”

“Jun, what are you saying?” he asked, suddenly feeling quite ill. How did Jun know this?

“Your mother is home and well. She is not in the hospital in Karuizawa. Your family is just fine. And I know this because I know who just called the house impersonating a doctor.”

Sho wasn’t sure if he was furious or if he wanted to be sick. “Pull over. Pull this car over and explain what you mean immediately.”

Jun had to wait until the road straightened out and he pulled off onto the side, leaving the engine running so they might still have heat. When Sho turned, Jun was still looking straight ahead out the windshield glass, his face solemn.

“I want to know what’s going on.”

“The person who called was not a doctor. The person who called you was named Oguri. He’s my friend.”

“How did he know my mother’s name?”

“Because I made the mistake of telling Toma your name once, and they’ve used it against me now. They did some simple investigating.” Jun took a breath. “You listened in on my phone call with Toma the other day.”

Jun had had his back to him, but he’d still known. Then again, Sho hadn’t heard much.

“Someone from my past…someone has died. When Toma called the other day, he said that this person was in the hospital, in his final days. He told me to come back to Tokyo, but I’d only just returned for Keita’s birthday. I told him I couldn’t leave again so soon. He said that he’d find a way to make me come anyhow, and that’s what this is. He used you, he used you in this way because he knows I would act. Toma and Shun, they’re not bad people…they just…”

“They just lied to me, a person they don’t know.” Sho tugged on the sleeve of Jun’s coat. “I thought my mother was seriously ill, Jun! How do I know this isn’t another lie?”

Jun turned to look at him, face pale and sorrowful. “It’s a long drive ahead. I said I’d tell you everything. And now that they’ve crossed the line, involved you, I think the time to tell you is now.”

“You say they’re your friends. Why are you friends with people who would lie like that about my family? How despicable can they be?”

“I’m the same as they are,” Jun admitted. “I was taught to be that way.”

“By whom?”

“By the man who just died.” Jun pulled the car back onto the road. “I swear to you that your mother is fine. Please, just listen to what I have to say.”

Sho sat back, and as the car slowly started making its way not to Karuizawa but Tokyo, Jun finally told him the truth.

—

At eighteen, he arrived in Tokyo. With the shame of being disowned by his father, he refused to stay in Nagano, longing to disappear and get as far away from the Matsumoto name as he could. He’d left with only a suitcase and a pair of his mother’s pearl earrings, something Atsushi had slipped into his coat before he’d left. The first thing he did when he arrived was pawn the earrings, which allowed him to stay in a boarding house with a private room.

Looking for work, most rejected him outright. Raised as a pampered aristocrat, Jun didn’t have many skills that were helpful in Tokyo. Construction jobs were plentiful, but Jun was a scrawny slip of a kid, had no muscles to speak of. The army he considered for maybe an hour before realizing that he didn’t dare join with his real name. Word would get back to his father, and he didn’t know where to obtain false identification.

One day he ended up at the Kitagawa Theater, a small intimate theater in Asakusa. There was an advertisement in the newspaper looking for a young man who could clean and do odd jobs. Inside he’d met the elderly Kitagawa Hiromu, a charismatic man who didn’t blink when Jun, desperate and down to his last bit of money, said he would do anything asked of him.

And for the first few months, he did his job as advertised. Selling tickets, sweeping the stage, tidying the actors’ dressing rooms. The troupe was composed of about fifteen actors of varying ages. Older veterans who took on the meaty roles and younger men only a few years older than Jun who often played the female roles with the help of costuming and makeup. The actors also doubled as stage hands, as lighting and prop crew.

There were two other young men Jun’s age who were also employed by Kitagawa Hiromu - Ikuta Toma and Oguri Shun. Ikuta was the son of a baker, Oguri an orphan that Kitagawa had taken in years earlier. Eventually Kitagawa had the three of them bunk together in a boarding house closer to the theater. At first his new friends seemed normal, but they often disappeared at night with no explanation.

Jun initially thought that Toma and Shun disliked him, deliberately excluding him from whatever they got up to. He even thought that they’d sensed that he preferred men, so they didn’t invite him out to drink and try to pick up women. It was when Shun came home with a severely injured Toma one night that Jun realized they weren’t just going out on the town.

With Toma out of commission with a broken leg, Jun was summoned to Kitagawa Hiromu’s office. “You,” Kitagawa had said, “I’ve got a side business I was hoping you could help with, now that Toma-kun is taking a break.”

It was then that Jun was given new papers and the name Miyama Hiroto, and he’d been expected to work for Kitagawa until the cost of the false identity was repaid. Kitagawa arranged for Jun to receive lessons, adding to the money spent on him that Jun would have to pay back. With his upbringing, Jun didn’t require any training in how to behave like a proper gentleman. But he did receive lessons of other kinds. Boxing. Martial arts. His thin body grew bigger, stronger. More agile. And Shun took him on different types of lessons altogether.

Shun taught him how to pick locks. How to sneak around in the dark. How to avoid guard dogs. Since Kitagawa Hiromu knew who Jun was and more importantly, who Jun’s father was, Jun didn’t dare question the strange new skill set he was acquiring. He also knew that he couldn’t back out. He was in too deep. By the end of the year, Toma was back in action and now Jun was ready to help, eager to pay off his mounting debt.

The three of them, Jun, Shun, and Toma, were part of an elaborate blackmailing and theft scam Kitagawa Hiromu was running. With his ailing theater as a front, Kitagawa grew fat and rich by stealing from theater patrons. He’d been running the scams for years, and Jun and his friends weren’t the first group of young men Kitagawa had employed this way. Jun watched and helped Toma in the coat check at Kitagawa Theater, rifling through people’s coats while the show was going on. Inside they found wallets, addresses. Business cards and matchbooks for restaurants. They never took anything, just jotted down information and passed it on to Kitagawa.

Then Kitagawa would select targets. They’d break into houses, looking not for money and jewels to steal outright but information. Bank account numbers that they’d copy down, names of children. They’d sometimes not break in at all, scouting from a rooftop across the way and observing. They gave the information to Kitagawa, who did the blackmailing, who ran the scams, who sent one of the actors in the troupe to a bank to do a withdrawal as someone else.

When Toma threatened to leave, Kitagawa threatened his family’s bakery in return. He said he would spread a rumor that the food was making people sick or would take out loans in Toma’s father’s name, putting him in debt to gangsters and other unsavory people before he realized it. Witnessing this, Jun knew he’d never be able to quit. He couldn’t bear the thought of someone going after the Matsumoto family money, of someone threatening his older brother and his wife. Their innocent infant son.

Jun felt he was a lost cause, a thief and a liar. But he couldn’t stop and put the family he actually cared about at risk.

As the years went by, Miyama Hiroto was arrested a few times for trespassing. But in more than a decade of work for Kitagawa Hiromu, being hauled in only three times was considered an achievement. Kitagawa simply added the bail money onto Jun’s neverending tab. Younger boys were brought in and trained as Jun and his two friends were called upon for different tasks as some of the older actors retired from the troupe, leaving Kitagawa’s sphere of influence.

Soon it was Jun coordinating things on Kitagawa’s behalf. He was put in charge of training the younger recruits, even as he desperately wanted to help them get away. He taught eager kids only a few years younger than he was how to pick locks, how to climb drain pipes to get onto a roof. He taught them how to use the guns Shun risked his life to buy on the black market. When anyone in the troupe was arrested, it was Jun who’d be sent to the police station with a briefcase full of cash to bail them out since he looked most like a young lawyer with his glasses and aristocratic manner of carrying himself.

And he was rotated in as part of the theater troupe, performing in a play and holding the audience’s attention while the teenagers he trained and mentored went through the audience’s coat pockets.

Though Kitagawa was rich, he funneled very little of it into the theater. As the years went on and the police started to catch on to his scams, the criminal activity started to slow. Jun spent more time on stage than slipping into someone’s house, looking for something to blackmail them with. 

Even though they had decent clothes, full bellies, their own cut of the scores from the scams, they all hated it. They all hated themselves. When one of the newer members, a 21 year old kid, discovered that the information he’d found for blackmail had driven a woman to suicide, he’d killed himself as well.

It was then that Kitagawa finally shuttered the theater. Jun had been 29, and he’d been a criminal for an entire decade. By that point Toma had mostly taken over his family’s business. Shun lived in the fancy house in Ginza Kitagawa lived in with his invalid sister, working as his right hand man. Jun had barely spent any of the money he’d earned, letting it instead sit in a bank account out of guilt. 

But he wasn’t free, even with the theater closed. As long as Kitagawa was alive, he had a hold on them. As Miyama Hiroto in Tokyo, he lived quietly, working in the Ikuta family’s bakery. But some nights he’d get a call from Kitagawa, and he’d have to report in. The larger scams were done. There was no infrastructure remaining for it. Jun was no longer sent to spy on members of the House of Peers, just wealthy fools and gambling hall addicts who might easily be parted from their money. 

When his brother Atsushi and his wife died, Jun went to Kitagawa saying he had to leave. Kitagawa read the newspapers. Kitagawa knew that the heir to the Matsumoto family had been orphaned. “You,” Kitagawa had told him, “you’ll come back when I tell you to come back.”

Knowing the threat was real, Jun took on his old name and took on the guardianship of his nephew. He used the money he’d never spent to buy a car and clothing befitting the aristocratic life he’d left behind. But when Kitagawa called, Jun was needed in Tokyo for some spying job or another. He told the staff nothing. How could he even explain it? Instead he simply vanished for days, weeks at a time, staying with Toma, working together with him and Shun, the three of them counting down the days until the old man died.

Shun had convinced the sickly Kitagawa of his loyalty, of his willingness to continue the enterprise. Instead Shun worked to slowly cover their tracks, day by day sneaking around Kitagawa’s house and destroying the information Kitagawa had gathered about people for decades. It was clear to Shun that Kitagawa’s invalid sister had no knowledge of her brother’s misdeeds. When the old man died, everyone who’d been trapped in his net would be free…so long as they managed to destroy all the evidence.

It was on a job for Kitagawa that Jun had been forced to run, climbing a fence to get away from a security guard that had not been mentioned or spotted during earlier scouting. Falling from the fence, he’d hurt his ankle, injured his hands. Jun suspected Kitagawa had sent him there knowing full well that there’d be a guard. The old man, slowly dying in the bedroom of his grand house, still believed he had power over them.

On Keita’s birthday, Toma had called, saying the end was near. That it would be a matter of days. Jun knew Toma and Shun could handle everything in Tokyo, could find and erase every bit of evidence that tied them all to Kitagawa Hiromu and his decades of lies and criminal activity.

But there were too many ties, too many links. Toma and Shun needed his help to ensure it was all destroyed. 

A few days after Keita’s party, Kitagawa Hiromu died.

Which resulted in a phone call to Pinetree Manor, a doctor Sho didn’t know informing him that his mother was ill and waiting for him in a Karuizawa hospital.

And so here they were.

—

They’d made few stops, Jun waving him off when Sho offered to relieve him behind the wheel. On one stop at a fueling station, Jun had telephoned ahead for instructions. A spare room at the Ikuta house, Jun’s usual Tokyo accommodations, was waiting for them.

His parents both in retirement, Ikuta Toma ran the family’s bakery with the help of day workers. The apartment above the bakery was empty that night save for Ikuta himself when Jun drove up in the wee hours of the morning.

Ikuta was awake since he had a business to run starting in only a few hours. He was similar in size to Jun, built slimmer and with a handsome but approachable demeanor. It was apparently Ikuta Toma’s charm and easygoing nature that made him a good scout for Kitagawa for so many years. 

Where their friend Oguri developed contacts in the black market and Jun took on a training role, Toma had often taken the lead on reconnaissance, slipping into fancy restaurants and paying for a “good” seat, which ended up being beside an aristocrat holding what he probably thought was a private meeting.

He bowed his head in apology. “I’m sorry, Sakurai-san, for what we did.”

“You’ve involved him even when I explicitly stated that he and all of my staff are off limits,” Jun said angrily. “A telegram would have conveyed the same idea.”

“You wouldn’t have come if I sent a telegram, and you know it,” Toma said.

Toma urged them to sleep, that Oguri would come by in the morning. Now that Kitagawa Hiromu was dead, they were on a rather tight schedule. The old man had been under police investigation for years, and Sho remembered Nino telling him as much. The police were probably trying to get a warrant to search Kitagawa’s house for evidence of wrongdoing. It was their final task to make sure the police didn’t find anything that would incriminate them or any of the others Kitagawa had snared the last several years. They had to go through Kitagawa’s house with a fine-toothed comb, had to make sure everything was destroyed. Only then would they be free of their burden at long last.

There were two futons side by side in the spare room. Sho didn’t remark on the close quarters, simply closing the door once they were both inside and opening his bag to get some clothes to sleep in.

“What you’re here to do has nothing to do with me,” Sho said quietly, unbuttoning his shirt and keeping his back to Jun. “Do what you must. Whatever is needed to keep Keita safe.”

“Sho, we should talk…”

“I’ve listened to you talk for the last several hours. What more could you possibly have to say?”

Sho genuinely felt sad for Jun and the secret life he had been living all these years, the constant deception, carrying out an evil man’s bidding just to stay alive, to keep the family that turned him away from becoming victims themselves. Sho understood it. He accepted it. But he didn’t have to like it.

Would he give up on Jun, now that he knew the horrible things he had done?

It was Jun who dared to voice that fear, his voice unsteady and quiet, none of his usual strength and confidence. “I’ve told you enough that if you walk out the door in the morning and go to the police, I won’t be angry. I promise that I won’t be, Sho. I’ve spent the last several years imagining myself walking up, turning myself in.”

“You want me to do that?”

He heard Jun pulling clothes out of his own bag, undressing behind him. “What I want doesn’t matter. I’ve deceived you, and I refuse to do it any longer. From the first letter you wrote inquiring about the teaching position, I felt you were someone I could trust. And again and again, you wanted so badly for me to be someone you could trust in return. If I end up in prison, at least I’ll go with a clear conscience.”

“I’m not going to rat you out,” Sho mumbled. “You were being manipulated, Jun. You were being manipulated by that man for almost half your life.” Not that the police would see it that way.

It had probably been too easy for Kitagawa Hiromu to take advantage of someone like Jun, cast aside, naive, and desperately seeking acceptance anywhere he could get it. Jun’s real father and Jun’s substitute father Kitagawa…both had been terrible to him in their own ways.

He turned, seeing that Jun was settling into the futon, sitting cross-legged and looking up at him. “I enjoyed it sometimes. There was a certain thrill to it, breaking in, sneaking about. It’s a thrill I haven’t been able to find again.”

“No wonder you drive so fast,” Sho replied. He wondered how much Jun had enjoyed picking the lock on Sho’s bedroom door the other night, wondered if he’d done it just to recapture that high.

Jun’s smile was weak, sad. “People were hurt by my actions. They were stolen from, both their secrets and their money. Even if it was under orders, I carried them out. But that man is dead now, and it will stop. It will stop for good. I can’t erase all those years, but I can face tomorrow knowing that I won’t be hurting anyone else.”

Sho turned out the light, getting into the futon beside Jun, lying on his back in the dark.

“It’s your responsibility to ensure that Keita grows up into a proper man. You can’t erase your past, but you can look to the future. Reaffirm the goal you set on the day he was born. Protect him. Guide him.” Sho took a breath. “Be a better man.”

“I will,” Jun vowed, and Sho shut his eyes, knowing that Jun was beside him, weeping in relief. That he could devote himself to Keita. That his years-long nightmare was over. That Kitagawa Hiromu was dead, and he was no longer his pawn.

He felt Jun’s fingers brush against his hand, seeking him out, seeking reassurance. Though it would be some time for Sho to come to terms with everything Jun had told him, he wasn’t going to leave him. He wanted to be there when the true Matsumoto Jun was allowed to live freely, the Matsumoto Jun he’d fallen in love with.

He gave Jun’s hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze before letting go, turning over onto his side. 

—

Their stay in Tokyo lasted six long days. Sho spent most of the first few days cooped up in Ikuta’s bakery, writing up lesson plans for when he returned to Pinetree Manor and calling his family. His mother was, of course, perfectly healthy.

Confirming that his father was not in earshot of the telephone call, Sho told his mother about Jun. He’d spoken of Jun in terms of him as an employer when his parents had come to Matsumoto City that one day, but now he found himself confessing. He said nothing of Jun’s past, only telling her that when he was with Jun, he was happy.

“Then stay by his side,” his mother said simply.

The other days he played the tourist, visiting landmarks and shrines and some of Tokyo’s massive department stores. Sho hadn’t experienced such a bustling city life since he’d left Kyoto, though he tired of it quickly. He realized that he preferred the simplicity of Matsumoto City, Pinetree Manor, the staff there, the grounds. Seeing Keita’s smile and knowing just how far he’d come. 

While Sho wandered the city, Jun and his friends had raced against the clock. They’d been to safety deposit boxes at several banks scattered all over the Tokyo metropolis. Kitagawa Hiromu hadn’t kept all his blackmail in one spot. In one box they found address books, something like a brag book of Kitagawa’s various schemes and victims. In another box they found cash, fine watches and other jewelry. Toma would see to it that anything they pawned or sold would benefit those Kitagawa had hurt.

Papers and sordid information about men and women both alive and now dead went up in flames in the ovens of Ikuta’s bakery. Sho watched from the corner of the room, Jun and his two friends embracing in relief, finally breaking away, moving on. 

It might be a form of justice to see the three of them in prison, Sho realized. Paying for the crimes that Kitagawa Hiromu didn’t have to. How many lives had they helped to ruin over the years? But still, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take Jun away from Keita, who needed him. If Jun went to prison for those crimes, what would even happen to Keita? The friends Sho had made at Pinetree Manor? In keeping Jun’s secrets, he could keep them all together.

And if Sho was perfectly honest, he was motivated by his own selfishness. Motivated by his need for Jun, by his affectionate regard and his more vulgar desire. Did that make him a bad person? Perhaps. But he’d chosen this path, and like Jun, he’d have to live with that choice moving forward.

Saying goodbye to his friends, to the men he’d been through hell with, Jun promised to visit. For the first time, Jun would be going to Tokyo because he wished to, not because he’d been blackmailed into it. Ikuta and Oguri both shook Sho’s hand, Ikuta leaning forward to rest a hand on Sho’s shoulder once Jun had left the room to get their bags.

“He never shut up about you,” Toma admitted. “He was always wanting to get back, ever since you started teaching the nephew.”

“I’m really sorry,” Oguri mumbled. “For using you to get to him.”

“You’ve both apologized for that already,” Sho said.

“I know,” Oguri replied. “But after all the terrible things we did…after all that, it feels good to at least apologize to someone.”

“Then I accept,” Sho said, nodding politely.

Toma patted his shoulder and let him go. “Take care of him. A guy like Jun needs a swift kick in the ass from time to time.”

Jun was coming down the stairs, suitcase in tow, scowling jokingly. “A guy like me needs what?”

“Let me go grab some cakes for you,” Toma said, hurrying off before Jun could give him a playful smack.

Oguri helped them get the car packed up. It was cold, December had finally arrived, and it was time to go back to Pinetree Manor to face whatever future lay ahead. Sho’s life had changed so much since that rainy August day he’d arrived in Matsumoto City.

A storm made them split their car journey back into a two-day affair, stopping overnight at an inn on the outskirts of Hokuto. They called ahead to Aiba, letting him know they’d return the following day and that Sho’s mother was doing fine. That lie Sho would have to live with, but he supposed it was nothing compared to the years of deception and shame Jun had lived through.

Sho returned from the inn’s private bath to find Jun sitting at the low table in their room, spinning something small on the table. As soon as it fell, Jun set it to spin around again with a quick flick of his fingers.

Sho watched for a few moments, Jun’s concentration entirely on the object. When it fell again, he interrupted. “A coin?”

“A button,” Jun said, picking it up and letting it lay flat against his palm. It was round, brass perhaps. “It was on a costume I had, first show I did for the troupe. It fell off when the thread came loose. I kept it, said it was missing, so the man who did most of our stitching up at the time simply added a new one.”

“Where’d you find it?”

“I’ve had it,” Jun said, letting the button spin again. “Keep it in my car. Before that it was always in my pocket.”

“Why?”

It fell again, and this time Jun left it. “I enjoyed acting, honestly I did. I could be someone else, at least for a few hours. I mean, I was already someone else. I was living under a false name, but being on stage…that was a different feeling. Everything I did for that man, I knew it was wrong. But being on stage, at least that was time when he couldn’t do anything to me. Couldn’t send me out to freeze on a rooftop, to peek through an underwear drawer. It was time to myself. I’m sentimental I guess, keeping it. I used to keep it in my hand, let it leave an indent in my palm. Kept me sane sometimes, reminded me of the moments where I wasn’t his to control.”

Sho knelt down beside him at the table, taking the simple button into his palm. “You’re certain nothing can be traced back to you?”

“It’s highly unlikely. We turned that house upside down, we got in touch with old members of the troupe. He had dirt on every one of us, and we all lived in fear of him.” Jun ran his fingertips along the table, lost in thought. “I don’t think anyone would want to do anything that might incriminate the others. I think we’re all just relieved that it’s over…that he’s finally gone.”

Sho looked at the button, imagined a younger version of Jun holding it tight in his hand, doing whatever he had to do to survive.

“You don’t need this anymore,” Sho said quietly, setting it down.

“I suppose I don’t.”

“I’ve told you before, that you aren’t without friends.” He looked up, meeting Jun’s eyes. “I understand what Ikuta-san and Oguri-san mean to you, and I know I can’t measure up entirely. I’ve known you for months, they’ve known you for years, but whatever I can do to help you through this…whatever I can do, just ask.”

Jun’s eyes were brimming with tears, and he took his glasses off, rubbing his eyes as he set them down on the table. Had it even truly sunk in yet, that his life was entirely his to lead for the first time in all these years?

“I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“It’s not all kindness,” he said, smirking. “Some of it’s just me being hopeless when it comes to you.”

“Hopeless?” Jun scoffed, wiping more tears away. “That’s an odd word for it.”

“It’s an odd sort of arrangement that we have all around, wouldn’t you agree?”

Jun nodded. “You’ll stay on? As Keita’s teacher?”

“Of course.”

“Will we be okay? You and me?”

“That depends. Do you plan to keep picking the lock to my bedroom and scaring me half to death?”

Jun’s smile was genuine, a little teasing, reminding Sho of just why he’d fallen and fallen so hard. “You snuck into my room without permission first, Sakurai Sho.”

“Ah,” he whispered, smiling in return. “It seems you’ve caught me there.”

When they kissed this time, for the first time since they’d left Pinetree Manor, it felt different to Sho. The person he kissed now had nothing to hold back. There was no lingering Matsumoto Jun or Miyama Hiroto mystery. There was only honesty now. For the first time, Sho had all of Jun before him, all of Jun to know and to love.

When Jun broke their kiss to crawl over to his bag, Sho was left panting, needy. Jun unzipped his bag, reaching into an inner pocket. His hand returned clutching a small bottle of lubricant, likely similar to the liquid he’d used on Sho before. 

“You brought that with you?” He narrowed his eyes jokingly. “Your priorities, Matsumoto-san…”

“To be fair, I bought it in Tokyo. To bring home for another time, I swear, and…”

“I’d rather not wait for another time.”

As the wind and rain pelted the glass and the innkeeper likely slept heavily on the floor below, he lay back, goosebumps rising all over as Jun untied his robe, tugging it open. Jun lay at his side, running his fingers up and down Sho’s bare skin, light and teasing. He was hard in moments, and Jun oiled his fingers, wrapped a firm hand around Sho’s erection. He stroked him for a while, a steady pace that distracted Sho from Jun’s equally demanding kisses, from the insistent press of Jun’s mouth against his own.

Jun’s slick hand brought him up, up, up, so close to coming before he stopped, moving a little to instead press long, slow kisses down Sho’s neck, across his chest, tongue licking and teasing until Sho’s nipples were as hard and aching to be touched as his cock was.

Soon Jun’s warmth beside him was gone, and he slipped out of his own clothes. When he returned, he knelt between Sho’s legs. Soon his wet, slick fingers moved between his thighs, and Jun started to touch him, as delicately as he had that other perfect night. The intrusion was still a little awkward at first, but Jun’s efforts were unrelenting. He knelt there comfortably, one arm wrapped around Sho’s leg to keep him steady. One finger pumping inside of Sho eventually became two, Jun fucking him with his fingers deeper and deeper.

Aching for Jun, aching for more of him, Sho sighed, bucking his hips, trying to quicken the process. Jun reached for the bottle again, not seeming to care all that much about it dripping onto the futon and sheets as he got Sho ready to finally take all of him, fucking him with three fingers until Sho was writhing, unashamed to beg for it, stroking his own erection in time with the thrust of Jun’s fingers. 

Jun finally gave in, pressing a soft kiss to Sho’s knee. “I’ll go slow,” he whispered. “And if you need me to stop, I will.”

Sho nodded his assent, trying to focus on breathing, on staying relaxed. It had been so long since he’d been penetrated, but he realized that he wasn’t nervous in the slightest. Jun had no secrets from him. Jun trusted him, and Sho knew now that he fully trusted him in return.

He moaned quietly in approval when Jun positioned himself, the head of his hard cock circling his hole a few teasing times before he started to move. Sho let his head fall back, shutting his eyes as Jun pushed slowly inside him, pulling back, and then offering a few shallow thrusts.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No,” Sho told him.

Jun had to want more, but he kept things slow, tentative, adjusting so he was on top of Sho, bending Sho’s legs to fit more easily between them. He rested one hand behind Sho’s head, pulling him close to kiss him, and bracing the other just beside Sho’s arm. It was an indescribable feeling, Jun slowly moving against him, filling him, deeper with each careful stroke.

He moved his hand, brushing along Jun’s ribs, circling around his back, needing to feel every bit of warm, bare skin he could. He could feel Jun’s fingers tangling in his hair, his thumb slipping over his earlobe. Sho’s hand hit a ticklish spot, and Jun jerked a little in surprise, which made him push into Sho a little harder than he probably intended. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Jun murmured, another kiss lost against Sho’s lips.

“No,” Sho protested. “You can keep…you can go faster.”

Jun’s lips pressed against his brow. “You sure?”

Sho wrapped his arm around Jun’s back, holding on more firmly. “Faster.”

Jun did as requested, and Sho nearly cried out, settling instead for a breathy gasp that only seemed to spur Jun on further. He stopped thinking, stopped caring about anything that wasn’t Jun, the smell of his sweat, the taste of his mouth. The self-control Jun had maintained for his sake melted away, and he clung tighter, holding on as Jun moved within him, whispering his name almost like a prayer. 

It wasn’t long before Jun’s grip on his hair tightened, and he tried to slow down, almost as though he wanted to prolong the experience. Sho refused to deny him. “It’s okay,” he said, squeezing Jun’s firm bicep. “It’s okay it’s okay it’s okay…”

Jun gave in, shuddering and panting just beside Sho’s ear. With a few more hard strokes of Jun’s cock inside him, Sho felt the warmth of his release, Jun sighing as he finished. When he made to move, to ease himself out, Sho stopped him with another squeeze of his arm.

“Don’t,” Sho begged him, “I want you close…”

Jun moved a little bit, just so Sho could get a hand between their sweaty bodies. He stroked himself, desperately kissing Jun. Jun obliged, not yet moving away as Sho quickly worked to bring himself off. It didn’t take long, still lost in the feeling of being fucked so well, feeling Jun come inside him because Sho had told him he could. He let go, gave in, hearing Jun’s gentle chuckle when he lost control, spilling on his own belly, some of it getting on Jun too.

Jun kissed his forehead, moving again to take hold of himself, gently pulling out. When they cleaned up to the best of their abilities, they moved onto the cleaner of the two futons, limbs jumbled together.

Sho woke a little sore but in good spirits despite finding his face mashed mostly against Jun’s armpit. Unable to keep his hands to himself, he woke Jun with slow, cruel kisses, earning a complaint that he ought to brush his teeth. “Again, before we leave. I want you to fuck me again first,” Sho said, licking Jun along his collarbone. 

“Sensei, such language.” Jun twisted his nipple between his fingers in punishment. “And to think, I let you and your filthy mouth teach my precious nephew.”

With less time needed for preparation, Sho soon found himself full, his body tight around Jun’s thick, hard cock once more. They sat up together once they found a comfortable way to manage it, face to face, Jun’s hand firm against the base of his spine as Sho rode him hard, arm around his neck. It was addicting, being with Jun. Being fucked by Jun. This time they couldn’t help but laugh, the sun rising outside as they gave in to their selfish lust.

“You stink,” Jun said later, barely coherent a few moments after he came.

“So do you,” Sho said in return, running his fingers through the sweaty, dark locks of Jun’s hair.

“I love you,” Jun said plainly, seriously, unashamed to admit it out loud.

Sho met Jun’s brown, anxious eyes with his own. After all that, did he really need confirmation? But Sho couldn’t, wouldn’t disappoint him. 

He pressed a gentle kiss to Jun’s temple. “I love you, too.”

—

The worst weather would arrive in January, in February, and so Jun had to work quickly and quietly when he got home. His detailed mind racing and full of ideas, he was utterly consumed with his new plan now that he wouldn’t be called away to Tokyo on Kitagawa Hiromu’s whims any longer. Given Jun’s ambitions, it would likely be a late Christmas present for his nephew.

When workers started arriving at Pinetree Manor in those days leading up to Christmas, the noise elsewhere on the mansion’s ground floor had Sho’s student more and more curious. He didn’t seem to believe the lies Mao and Sho fed him, that his uncle was doing some typical improvements to the study.

In truth, the study was being entirely transformed. 

The books that Matsumoto Taro had bought simply to appear intellectual had been removed, Sho and the rest of the staff given permission to take whichever ones interested them. The rest were sold, the proceeds given to a charity for orphans. Many children did not have wealthy doting uncles like Keita did.

The shelves were ripped out, the fancy desk given to Ninomiya to replace the one that had been in the law office since his father had been fresh out of his university law program. The rest of the furniture and furnishings had been given to the staff to decorate their own rooms if they wished. With the curtains open, winter morning light poured into the once darkened study, the room where Sakurai Sho had met Matsumoto Jun in person for the first time.

The track circled the room in a horseshoe-like loop, with space from the doorway to the center of the room left completely empty so a young boy in a wheelchair could easily park himself in front of the elaborate control console, state of the art and requiring almost as much electricity when running as some of the other rooms in the house put together. An expense Jun merely waved off. “Let Nino deal with the power company,” was all he said in regards to the huge power suck that the study now required.

There were two different trains that could run simultaneously, each of them managed by the controls. One in imitation of a freight train, ten boxcars and two coal cars tugged behind a locomotive. The other was a passenger train with hand-painted carriages, so detailed that you could glance through the carriage windows to see the smiling faces of the riders within.

Three separate stations, as yet unnamed. That honor would go to the boy in the wheelchair. Small towns built up around each station with townsfolk and motorcars, the rest of the constructed platform given over to landscapes. The workers followed Jun’s instructions to the letter and no request was left unfulfilled. The “landscape” was painted plaster, all of it resting on a wood and metal frame. Rolling green hills dotted with cow figurines, patchwork fields of farms. A forest of soaring pines with an oddly familiar English-looking house nestled in the center. 

The room’s southern wall had been painted by other professionals before the model’s construction started, the artwork based on a design Jun had come up with and Ohno had sketched. Mount Fuji soaring to the heavens in the distance, the green fields of the model extending off to the mountainous horizon.

Christmas came, Christmas went, and even with the workers putting in long days it still wasn’t done. 

Jun finally called for him on New Year’s Eve, pulling Sho away from the staff’s celebration in the kitchen. He entered the study, closing and locking the door behind him. Keita had been given permission to stay awake until midnight and was in the kitchen laughing and smiling with all the people who served him with loyalty and love. The plan was to let him start the New Year at the controls of his newer, fancier model railroad, not that he knew it yet.

But first, Jun had to ensure that it was perfect.

Sho found Jun at the center of the masterpiece he’d designed, the complete and elaborate world he’d had constructed to bring happiness to his nephew for years to come. Jun’s back was to him, his hand steady on the controls of the passenger train as it weaved along the few dozen feet of track that had been built. A few weeks earlier Sho had had to talk Jun down from knocking out a wall and making the model even larger.

He approached, standing at Jun’s side and watching the train slowly make its way through the peaceful countryside. So far, Jun’s life back at Pinetree Manor had been uninterrupted. Toma called weekly, assuring Jun that the police’s investigation had gone cold, that the freedom they enjoyed would continue.

“He’s going to love it,” Sho said quietly, watching the train move along.

When he and Sho had first returned from Tokyo, Keita and Jun had spent hours talking alone together. Jun made a promise—he and Keita were a family, and Jun would do anything in his power to keep their family together.

They’d spoken at long last about Atsushi and Natsuko, Jun asking Keita for the first time why he found trains so interesting given what had happened. “It was an accident,” Keita had explained. “It was an accident that took them. It was an accident that hurt me. I don’t blame all the trains just because one had problems.”

All of their fears for Keita had been unfounded. He was braver and more perceptive of his situation than anyone had thought. He told Jun that he hoped to work with trains someday, that he’d design them, build them. He’d make them safer for everyone so what happened to him, to his parents, wouldn’t happen again. 

Jun had emerged from that meeting with the idea for turning an entire room of the house into a model, and after hundreds of man hours, a massive financial investment, and little sleep, his dream for Keita was finally real.

The train slowed to a stop, Jun switching the console off. The gentle hum that dominated the room vanished, leaving only the sound of their breathing.

They still kept things secret, though if the staff suspected anything, they simply pretended not to notice. Sho’s days were full of teaching, seeing Keita grow and improve, take on more difficult challenges. He was a very smart boy, and Sho worried that he would one day be unable to give Keita the more advanced lessons he needed, especially if he pursued more elaborate sciences. But Jun reassured him constantly that there would always be a place for him at Pinetree Manor whether he was teaching or not.

In a matter of months, Sho’s life had completely changed. He’d been able to reach out to a boy who wouldn’t speak, drawing him out of his shell, helping him to realize all the possibilities still open to him despite the challenges life had given him. He’d made friends with the staff, working together with them to keep Pinetree Manor running smoothly.

And he’d met Jun. At first he was just the man who hired him, a mysterious figure smoking and sipping brandy in a shadowy room. Now here Jun was, standing at his side in that very same room - open, honest, and free. No longer in the dark, but here in the middle looking to the future instead of trying to conceal his past. With each passing day, Jun smiled more. He laughed more. Sometimes, if Sho was feeling particularly selfish, particularly possessive, he’d look into Jun’s eyes and it would seem like there was only the two of them in the world. 

A foolish and cliched thing to think, but Sho didn’t much mind. It was okay to be foolish when love was still so new.

Jun looked away from the control console, offering a gentle grin. “This wouldn’t be here without you, Sensei. If you’d never let him draw…”

“We don’t know that,” Sho teased. “We can’t prove that.”

“And to think, I was going to use that as a way to broach the topic of your salary,” Jun chided him, sliding his finger down Sho’s cheek. “The topic of your salary and how high I intend to raise it.”

Sho looked down, a little embarrassed. Despite everything they’d done together, a look from Jun, Jun’s touch…it still made him weak in the knees. He hoped it always would. “Perhaps we can discuss that another time.”

“Probably for the best.”

Sho examined his wristwatch. “Ten minutes until midnight.”

“We should probably go fetch him,” Jun said before leaning forward, brushing a soft kiss to Sho’s lips. “Since we won’t be able to welcome the New Year in the traditional way. We’ll instead be at the mercy of a boy and his train.”

Sho didn’t mind the early New Year’s kiss, gently easing Jun’s glasses off and moving in for a longer one. Jun’s hand rested on his cheek, thumb stroking his skin. The seconds ticked by, the two of them only stopping when they could hear the staff entering the hall.

“Happy New Year,” Sho whispered, setting Jun’s glasses back in place.

Jun let him go, smiling. “Happy New Year, Sensei.”


End file.
